Trouble is Near
by The Mutant Jinx
Summary: Sequel to 'Time of Trial.' This time around, Sting and the X-Men must uncover a secret of Nightcrawler's past. But will a sinister geneticist ruin everything? Rated T for language, violence, alcohol references, mature themes and sensuality.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_This is the sequel to my story _Time of Trial_. If you have not read that one, I suggest you do so, or you will likely be confused. To move to another topic, here are some things you should know.

**OCs: **Sting/Elyon Ryder, Cognitia/Bella Robertson and Legend/Jared Moretti are my characters. You may not use them without my permission.

**Genres: **This is like supernatural/action/adventure/spiritual/suspense/f riendship/romance sort of thing. If you end up scratching your noggin, quizzically tilting your head and saying, "Huh?" at that list, don't say I didn't warn you.

_**Disclaimer: **_The X-Men and all related characters and names are owned by Marvel Comics and partner companies. All copyrights associated with the X-Men belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

That being said…enjoy!

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><p><em>Experimentation. It is both a key to learning and a fundamental step in the scientific method. Were humans without the ability to question and to test, we would not be the advanced society that we are today. But sometimes, experimentation occurs at the deadliest of hands.<em>

**1. RETURN**

_MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK—THE NOT-TO-DISTANT FUTURE_

The thing about Midtown was that there were so many things to look at. I found myself staring at the bustle of all the people, gazing at the different stores with their fancy window displays and gawking at the tall buildings which seemed to stretch up endlessly toward the sky. I had been to Manhattan once before, but it had been brief and out-of-the-way in an alley before moving on to my current home. I reminded myself of a small child visiting the county fair for the first time, and in many ways, I was.

I felt someone nudge me. "Focus on the task at hand, Sting," was the tense whisper.

"I hear ya, Cyke," I said, glancing up at Cyclops, who was also known as Scott Summers. "But I've never been to a big city like this before. I can't help it." I'd like to see _him_ try growing up in Southern Appalachia without ever going anywhere so grand.

Cyclops sighed, clearly conflicted by our current assignment and his pity for me.

A passerby muttered to him, "Nice shades."

Cyclops adjusted the ruby-quartz visor which covered his eyes and was the only thing to hold back his dangerous, concussive optic blasts. "Thanks." He turned back to me. "Just try not to get too distracted."

I smiled to myself. Poor Cyclops was always worrying about everything. We had left for New York City over twenty-four hours ago to find our target, and so far we had staked out almost every street of every borough without luck. Despite the stress, he always was trying to make sure that everyone else was happy. I guessed that came with being field leader.

I watched him as he checked the translucent red screen of his scanner. "Anything?" I fiddled with my black leather duster, which was the only thing that covered my uniform. If people were to see its complex design, they would likely tell their friends, who would tell their friends, and so on until too many people knew for us to be safe. No one was supposed to even suspect our existence. It was one of the many challenges of being a mutant.

"No." Cyclops frowned. The scanner was intended to check someone's brainwaves for the differences caused by the mutant X-gene from a distance. And our target was just that—a mutant.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to keep waiting." I fiddled with my light brown hair. I had decided to wear it down for this mission, so that I didn't look like I'd just walked out of _The Matrix_ or something. It was the longest of any of the women who lived with us at home, as it had grown since March from my waist all the way down to my hips.

The wind picked up, mussing Cyclops' dark hair. "I should contact Jean," he said. "Maybe she and Wolverine have had some luck." He pulled his cell phone-like communicator from his belt and hit the number for Jean's own device. "Jean? Yeah, we're fine here. Have you and Wolverine got anything?" There was a pause. "Oh. I see. You two keep looking, okay? And be careful."

I loved hearing him talk to his wife (he and Jean had been married in the middle of June). There was such concern, such care, such love, in his voice. Of course, I had someone who talked to me that way too, back home.

"Jean's scanned every mind in Uptown," Cyclops informed me. "But there's no sign of the girl. Wolverine can't get a scent, either."

I huffed under my breath. "Rats." I pulled my own communicator from my belt. "I guess I'll call Rogue, see if she's any flukier than us." I dialed Rogue's number and held the communicator up to my ear. "Rogue? You there?"

"_What's up, sugar?_" The eighteen-year-old Mississippian sounded far more cheerful than our situation currently was.

"Cyclops and I need to know how things are looking in Downtown." I tapped my foot patiently while I waited for her answer, watching all the people walk by.

"_Hmm…I don't have the slightest lead. We should keep looking, though. It can't be long till we find her._"

I exhaled deeply. "All right. Contact us if you do find something, though."

"_I know, I know,_" Rogue said. "_I've been through the drill a thousand times. Talk to you later._" I heard the beep on the other end as she closed her device.

I looked back to Cyclops as I clipped my device onto my belt. "Think we should get going?"

Cyclops scanned Broadway one more time. "Yeah. That's probably best." He put the scanner (which Wolverine had so thoughtfully dubbed "the weirdo detector") back into his coat pocket.

Just as we were starting to assimilate into the crowd milling around us, I heard someone speaking in harsh tones. I reached out to touch Cyclops' arm. "Wait!"

The voices were male and sounded like teenagers, as they constantly cracked in some places and sounded horrifically menacing in others. "Just admit it and we'll leave you alone, Aquilla," one of them said. "You're a filthy mutie!"

I hated hearing these words for two reasons. First, there was a bill pending in Congress called the Mutant Civil Rights Act, so someone saying this was definitely a legit act of racism. Second, they were terribly similar to the words I'd heard last summer when I'd been assaulted, only when I'd been cornered, the phrase was, "Tell us the truth, Ryder. Tell us the truth that you're a filthy mutie!" That attack was the reason I left my parents in Johnson City, Tennessee after college. And now I was listening to it happening all over again. But I didn't mention these feelings to Cyclops.

"Aquilla?" Cyclops gasped, proving that he had been listening too. "Isn't that the girl Cerebro found?"

Even as he spoke, a girl's voice came into the conflict. "No! You've got it all wrong! I-I'm _not_ a mutant, I swear I'm not!"

We whipped around to see five boys, teenagers as I had assumed, following an average-looking girl with wavy blond hair and brown eyes down the sidewalk at a quickening pace.

"Cyclops!" I hissed. "The scanner!"

"I've got it," he muttered, holding it up. It beeped loudly with a sound that could have passed for a PDA. "That's her! Call Rogue—I'll get Jean and Wolverine!"

I grabbed my communicator with speed and grace. We had all been trained to deal with taxing scenarios like this one. Once again I dialed for Rogue. "Rogue, we've spotted her!"

"_Really?_" Her surprise was evident. "_Where?_"

"On the east end of Broadway," I replied as calmly as possible. "But she's in trouble. There are a few guys tailing her, and they look dangerous. Come as quick as you can. We'll handle it for now."

"_Of course I'll be quick._" I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "_I can fly, remember?_" She shut off the communicator.

"Rogue's coming," I said to Cyclops. He was just now re-clipping his device, so I followed his lead. "She'll be here s—"

A shriek cut through the air. "_NO! Get away from me!_" All of a sudden, the girl was pushing us and everyone else aside, the five boys at her heels.

"Follow her!" Cyclops ordered. "We have to get to her before they hurt her!" He started to run after her. I sprinted by his side, taking two light-footed steps for every one of his. Oh, the joys of being tiny. I shoved people aside, not bothering to apologize for their protests.

The thugs were moving the girl dangerously close to the street, but Cyclops and I had no choice but to follow their path.

_Come on, Jean, hurry, _I thought. Aside from being telekinetic, Jean was also a telepath, and a tremendously powerful one at that. If anyone could placate the building chaos, it was she.

"Cyclops! Sting!" It was Rogue, quickly catching up to us. She had definitely flown over to us, though it was a wonder she wasn't causing a scene. Flight, super strength and extreme durability weren't her natural mutant abilities, however. Her true gift—or curse—was that she could absorb the memories and sometimes the life force of anyone with whom she made skin contact, and if they had special gifts, mutant or otherwise, she absorbed them for a time. A few months ago she had accidentally, and permanently, absorbed her new powers from a woman called Colonel Carol Danvers in an awful misunderstanding.

"Rogue!" Cyclops glanced over his shoulder. "Glad you could make it!"

Up ahead, the jerks were running the girl into the street. "Cyclops!" I called as Rogue started to dash by my side.

"_Leave me alone!_" the girl screamed. All of a sudden, her skin and hair began to glow a bright, fiery orange, and for a brief moment she looked to be made of rock as flames jumped from her flesh.

"Aw, crap," I muttered.

Cars slammed on their breaks. People stared. I think I saw red camera lights blinking, but there was no way to be sure, and we didn't have time to care.

The teenage boys looked shocked, but they only began harassing the girl further. We had to intervene.

Cyclops pressed the dial on his visor, releasing a fast, crimson optic beam and making the boys all separate from one another. They shouted in alarm and turned to face us as we joined them in the street. "I wouldn't keep up with that, if I were you."

"Oh, yeah?" one of them, who seemed to be their leader, snorted. "And who do you think you are to stop us?"

I gave one of them, the one with honey-colored hair, a hard push with my own telekinesis. He fell onto his bottom and looked at us with wide-eyed fear. "I think we're a force to be reckoned with," I said, igniting daggers of fire over each of my hands.

Meanwhile, the lava-girl was inadvertently beginning to set the concrete around her ablaze.

At that moment, Wolverine ran into the conflict, his wind-blown brown hair, muttonchops and unmerciful glare making him look like a frightening animal. He stopped short of the leader kid, crouching and extending his long, adamantium-laced claws, three from each hand. "I'd rethink what you're about to do if I were you, bub," he snarled.

All of the boys were rammed backward as a telekinetic wave hit them and Jean Grey-Summers walked toward us, her long red hair blowing behind her.

"Jean," Cyclops addressed her. "You have to calm her down, before she destroys the whole block."

"I can do that, Scott," Jean said, calling Cyclops by his name. She closed her eyes and held her hands up to her temples.

The lava-girl grabbed her head and moaned. As her skin returned to normal, she started falling to the ground.

Rogue and I darted up to her. Rogue caught her before she could fall. Gently, I touched the girl's face. Even through my black leather gloves, she was burning up. "Do you think she'll be okay?" Rogue asked me.

As though answering her question, the girl opened her eyes. She regained her focus as she saw us, a confused expression coming to her delicate, doll-like features. We must all have looked very strange to her, what with our matching leather jumpsuits and long coats.

I made sure my tone was as comforting as possible before speaking. "Amara Aquilla?"

"Yeah?" Amara's voice was scratchy.

"You don't have to be afraid, Amara," Rogue said. "We're here to help you."

"Who are you?" Amara didn't seem afraid. Actually, she just appeared to be inquisitive.

I smiled kindly. "We're the X-Men." My back tingled with paranoia, and I looked over my shoulder. No one threatening was there. Why did I feel so cautious? I turned back to the girl. "We need to get you out of here before—"

_BOOM!_ Something exploded beside us, and we were all pushed five feet to the side, so that we were scrambled at the feet of Cyclops, Jean and Wolverine.

"What the heck was that?" Rogue demanded.

I looked over at the place where we had been. The asphalt was charred and smoking, and in our spot was a big harpoon. Jean must have pulled us back before the blast. "I don't know," I said. "But apparently it was potentially fatal."

Jean gasped suddenly and rushed to stand in front of us, holding up her arms. Gunshots rang out then, but the bullets only ricocheted off of Jean's telekinetic shield. I heard civilians yelling, and their feet shuffling and tapping as they hectically tried to get to safety.

"Who is that?" My voice's pitch raised an octave.

No sooner had I said the question than three people stepped forth from behind one of the various cars which had been parallel parked along the road. One was a tall woman in an all-green ensemble that matched her emerald hair. The other two were both men, the first of which could only be around five-seven, was obviously of Inuit descent and wore black clothes, not to mention that he had a case strapped to his back containing several weapons like that which had detonated on the street and nearly killed Amara, Rogue and me. The second man, who had long black hair and dark skin, towered over the other two and wore gray clothes, and he carried a gun that looked more like a cannon.

The green-haired woman pointed to Amara. I couldn't hear what she said, but her lips formed the shape of the words, "Get the girl!"

"No way," I muttered. I rose to my feet and stood protectively in front of Amara. "Stay behind me," I ordered, looking quickly back at her. She nodded frenetically.

At that moment, I felt a pain in my head. It was not too sharp—more like someone was pushing me, trying to get into my mind. However, everyone else except Jean was reeling and seemed nauseous. I noticed that the green-haired woman seemed to be concentrating intently. This must have been her doing.

I looked over at Jean. _Hellfire?_ I asked.

'_Go ahead,' _she said.

I turned my eyes to the green-haired woman and accessed my mental power, making her believe that fire was coursing through her veins. She fell to her knees with a screech and the pushing feeling dissipated. My teammates stood as the Inuit turned to his attention to his comrade. "Vertigo!" he shouted.

Vertigo turned a baleful glower to us. She then motioned to the tall man. He aimed his hand-cannon at us and a torrent of bullets rushed toward us. Jean formed a telekinetic shield. By the time the bullets stopped firing, the trio was gone. They had simply vanished.

"We should go," Cyclops said.

Rogue and I helped Amara to stand. "Come on," Rogue said sweetly.

"Where are we going?" Amara asked.

"To a safe place," I answered. "We'll tell you more about it on the jet."

"You have a jet?" Her childlike wonder was amazingly endearing. I nodded.

Using her powers, Jean masked us from the spectators' minds so that we could get back to the rooftop where we'd left the Blackbird jet safely and without trouble. Luckily, this wasn't too far away, so even though we walked in silence, it wasn't for long.

Rogue buckled Amara into her seat while I went up to the cockpit to talk to Jean. "What was that about?"

"I don't know." Jean looked frustrated. "I can't tell who those people are, either. Something's blocking me out." When she turned to look at me, I could have sworn that there was some kind of blazing raptor in her eyes.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I quipped, "Where are the Fantastic Four when you need them?" Jean wasn't amused. I went for something else. "So, what was that green-haired lady doing? You know, Vertigo." From her name, I could probably guess, but I wanted to make sure.

"She was disorienting everyone else," Jean said. "It didn't work on me because of my psychic shields. And I'm guessing that you were unaffected because your power cancels out hers somehow."

"I just hope none of that ends up on the news," Wolverine grumbled. "Chuck wouldn't be too happy about that."

Cyclops started the engines. "Even if it does, the Professor will know how to handle it," he said confidently. "He always has a backup plan."

I knew that Cyclops was right, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong, if it hadn't already.

After the incredibly short plane ride home, Jean and Scott landed the Blackbird in the hangar and talked privately. Wolverine headed off by himself, most likely to change out of his uniform. Rogue led Amara down into the hangar, whispering to her the whole way. Like Wolverine, I went away alone, heading out into the hallway of the mansion's subbasement and to the elevator. I had someone I needed to see. I pressed the button for the ground floor.

As soon as the elevator opened, I rushed out into the hall. I heard a piano (Liszt's third "Liebestraum"), and I followed the sound of the music to the parlor. When I approached, a goofy grin spread across my face. Standing in the center of the room was my best friend and more, Kurt Wagner.

Kurt, who was also known as Nightcrawler, didn't have the most common of features, and I'm not just talking about the handsomeness of his face. His more normal characteristics were his height of five-foot-nine, ten inches taller than my four feet eleven inches, and his blue-black hair, which stuck up in curly, tousled tufts and accentuated his widow's peak. His stranger traits were skin of the most lovely deep blue; bright yellow-gold eyes; scars all over his body resembling angelic symbols which he'd given himself; three-fingered hands, if you count his thumbs; two-toed feet; pointed ears; fang-like canine teeth and a spaded prehensile tail. But I did find this strangeness fascinating and even attractive, oddly enough, though he would most certainly be good-looking if he were an average man.

He broke into a breathtaking, bright-white smile when he saw me, and I couldn't stand the distance for much longer. I sprinted toward him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, spinning me around before setting me back on my feet.

"Hey, Kurt," I said casually.

"I missed you so much," he whispered. His soft tenor mixed with his German accent always melted my heart.

"I was only gone a day." I pulled back to stare at his entrancing face.

He stared at me, too. "Technically, you were gone for two days." He stroked my face tenderly, and his hand lingered there. His eyes smoldered like liquid topaz before he leaned down to kiss me.

If I could, I would spend at least three to four hours of each day kissing Kurt. Maybe more, since he was so good at it. I wrapped my arms around him and stood on my tiptoes so that he wouldn't have to bend over so much.

His hands rested at my waist, and he gently pulled my hips into his. I sighed, tilting my head to get closer to him and pressing myself against him. A low moan sounded in his throat.

The feeling I always got was that of being light-headed and absolutely giddy. It was a very nice high, in my opinion.

He was just starting to deepen the kiss when we heard someone. "Ahem," Logan coughed subtly. We broke apart to face him, and I felt myself blush. "I hate to interrupt," Logan continued, "but we need Sting in the lower levels."

I frowned, then turned back to look at Kurt. He seemed just as disappointed. I patted him on the arm. "I'll be right back, okay? You've got lesson plans to work out, anyway." I shrugged.

"Don't be too long," he said.

I waved and followed Logan back down to the subbasement. "What is it, Logan?"

"Rogue, Jean, Scott and I all have to introduce ourselves to the new students, get them settled in," Logan said. "And we have to break in the new guy."

Oh, yeah, the new teacher. I couldn't quite remember his name, but it was something funny, Chinese perhaps—Xorn, was it? "So what do you need me to do?"

We turned the corner into the hall leading to the hangar. "I need you to take Amara to the office, let her call her parents," he said. "Then you need to give her a tour, show her the ropes. I figured you'd get along with her easily, since your powers are kind of alike."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Fire wasn't exactly magma; and besides, Amara seemed meek and complacent. I had a habit of being more bold and brash, sometimes to the point that it got me in trouble, but I was working on it.

We entered the hangar once more to see Amara standing in the center of the space rather awkwardly, seeming unsure whether or not she should be there. Logan leaned down and muttered, "Good luck, Imp." Then he left us to go and speak with the newbies.

I turned back to face Amara again. Poor child, she looked so worried and almost scared. I smiled as warmly and welcomingly as I could, holding out my hand to her. "Come on, Amara," I invited. "Let me show you around."

She hesitated, but then she closed the distance between us and put her hand in mine. "Okay."

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><p><em><strong>AN:**_ Okay, so I know that this is just a little short. But I hope you think that I have improved on my action scenes. Can you tell where this leads, and who those people were? If you can, you get a warm, fresh-baked (pretend) chocolate-chip cookie.

Don't forget to leave a review!

(note: has been edited since initial publication.)


	2. Chapter 2

**2. ORIENTATION**

"Here's the second floor," I said, leading Amara up the stairs. I had taken her to meet Professor Xavier and call her parents, and now I was giving her a tour of the mansion. "Your room's down this hall." I walked in front of her down the hall to the right, stopping at the fourth door. I turned the knob and opened it. "Go on in."

Amara stepped into the room. Her eyes flitted about inquisitively. "This is really nice," she said. "There are two beds, though. Which one is mine?"

I moved to stand beside her, noticing that I was significantly shorter than she was. _Rats._ "You'll have to discuss that with Illyana—your roommate. She'll be up here after student orientation is over." I made a gesture with my arms, spreading them wide before letting them fall back to my sides. "So, that's pretty much it, except for the third floor. That's where the teachers and graduates sleep, so you don't really need to go up there yet. Do you like it here?"

Amara nodded, making her blonde waves bounce. "Yeah." She started walking a bit awkwardly back out into the hall. "They call you Sting, right?"

"Yeah."

She glanced at me from out of the corners of her eyes. "What's your real name?"

"Elyon Ryder," I answered.

"Are you a teacher here, too?" She clasped her hands behind her back.

"Starting this year," I said. "I'm teaching the World Cultures elective." Of course, I _would _have been teaching Psychology and Ethics, if it weren't for one of our newer residents, Emma Frost. But I wouldn't let that get to me, no matter how often my intense dislike for Emma got in the way.

"What about the other X-Men?" She cocked her head curiously.

Ooh, jeez. "Scott—Cyclops—teaches a mechanics elective and a leadership course, Jean handles most of the natural sciences and Logan, er, Wolverine mentors combat training."

"Is there more?"

I laughed. "Too much for me to list at the moment."

She seemed excited by that prospect. "Are there any teachers who aren't busy right now? 'Cause I'd like to meet them. I mean, not that I don't like you or anything. You're actually really nice."

_You haven't seen me when I'm angry,_ I thought. "Sure. There's only a few at the moment, but I think we'll find someone."

I headed back downstairs and made the turn to the east wing, Amara following me. One classroom door was open. I would have gladly avoided it, but Amara tapped my arm and whispered, "Who's that?"

I groaned in my head, but decided to comply anyway. "Come on, I'll introduce you to her." I moved to the door and raised my fist to knock on the doorway, just to be polite.

"You don't have to knock, you know," Emma told me bluntly. "I knew you were there the whole time." She never looked up from the papers on her desk.

_Telepaths._ Wordlessly, I took Amara's hand and we entered the room. "This is Amara Aquilla, the girl from New York Cerebro found. Amara, this is Emma Frost, the Psychology and Ethics teacher." I smiled, just to be cordial, but of course Emma could see right through it.

Emma looked up at us, pushing her perfect ash-blonde hair over her shoulders. Her calculating, icy blue eyes matched her sparklingly all-white outfit, but her pale features took on a friendly expression, her flawless lips turning up slightly at the corners. "Hello, Amara. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Amara mumbled. She was either in awe or intimidated, I couldn't quite tell.

Emma turned her attention to me with a precision that would have made me flinch if I wasn't already used to it. "Ryder, don't forget to finish up those lesson plans. I know you've been a bit indecisive about this first week. Might I suggest covering how the Mesopotamian society influenced the rest of the Western world?"

Of course she figured she'd make a fool of me now. And God forbid she ever just call me "Elyon," but that wasn't so bad, as I had made a habit of returning the favor. "Actually, Frost, I just have a few more little details to take care of. You don't have to worry about me. I'm a big girl now."

Emma fixed me with steely eyes, though her expression remained unchanging. "All right, then. Have a good day."

"You, too." The sentiments were entirely false, naturally, but we said them anyway.

Amara and I headed back out into the hall. "You two don't like each other very much, do you?"

"Nope," I said matter-of-factly. "We just clash. Fire and ice. What can you expect?"

Before we could say anything else, we came to yet another open door. I wouldn't mind seeing its occupant so much.

"Come on in, Elyon!" Bella called.

Like Emma, Bella was one of the school's four experienced telepaths, although she didn't have much of a tendency to flaunt her abilities. Amara and I took her invitation and entered the classroom.

Bella sat in front of the computer on her desk, her dark auburn hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She stood when we came in and smiled. Her kind brown eyes were warm. "Hi," she said. "You must be Amara. I'm Bella Robertson. I teach Literature here at the school."

"Hi," Amara said, clearly more comfortable around Bella than Emma.

"So, Elyon here showed you around, huh?" Bella's tone was cheerfully conversational. She knew how to make someone feel welcomed. "How do you like it?"

"Everything looks great," Amara enthused. "I like it here a lot."

Just then, I felt something flexible wind around my waist. Kurt's footsteps were so quiet; I hadn't heard him come into the room.

I grinned. "Hi."

"I heard you were giving Miss Aquilla a tour." I could hear the simple contentment in his voice as his tail pulled me closer to him. "I figured I would stay away from the orientation and find you. I wouldn't want to give the new students a fright."

Speaking of new students, I looked back to Amara. She didn't look afraid, to be honest. Actually, she had frozen in place, her eyes widened in shock as she stared at us.

Seeming embarrassed, Kurt released his hold on me, allowing me to step between him and Amara. Bella watched us anxiously, unsure of how exactly to react.

I cleared my throat, feeling the tension which had suddenly clouded the room. "Um, Amara, this is Kurt Wagner. He'll be teaching German this year. Kurt, this is Amara Aquilla. You know, the girl we were sent to find in New York?"

Kurt offered his hand in an attempt to break the discomfort. "I'm glad to meet you."

Amara brought herself out of her stupor. "Uh, yeah. You, too." As she shook Kurt's hand, a look of bewilderment came to her face. A little burst of awe-struck laughter passed her lips. "Wow," she breathed. "This is too _unreal_."

Kurt chuckled. I found myself laughing breathlessly as well, relief washing over me. _A positive reaction. That's good._

Amara looked Kurt up and down. "This is _so cool_!" Her eyes sparkled with delight. "Are there others like you? I mean, not to be offensive or anything, but…"

Kurt was obviously amused. "Well, there _is _a man with angel wings."

"Don't forget our resident blue metamorph," Bella chimed in.

"Metamorph?" Amara tilted her head.

"Shapeshifter," I clarified.

Kurt's eyes tightened just slightly at the mention of Mystique, but neither Bella nor Amara appeared to notice. "Yes, her, too."

"But no one else _just _like you?" Amara sounded a bit let down.

Kurt shook his head. "No, not _just _like me."

I tried to lift the negative connotation. "But that's okay. Kurt's not alone, he's just unique. Like you, Amara. Like all of us."

"That's why we're here," Bella added. "So that we can have people who understand. We take care of each other, like a family. Does that make sense?"

Amara nodded. "That makes perfect sense." She studied us all for a moment. "Like a family," she repeated. A smile spread across her face.

* * *

><p>That evening, after all the students (old and new) had gone to bed, some of us were lounging in the common room, watching the eleven o' clock news. Logan, Bella, Jean and Scott shared the couch. Ororo Munroe, also called Storm, was idly browsing the bookshelves. Hank McCoy, a.k.a. Beast, the blue-furred scientistpolitician, and Emma sat at one of three wooden tables, engaged in a game of chess. Professor Charles Xavier, bald-headed, wheelchair-bound and one of the world's most powerful telepaths, sat near to the couch. Kurt and I sat together on the loveseat.

I wasn't paying all that much attention, and was in fact about to doze off when Logan suddenly grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the flat-screen television. I sat up at the change, readjusting my eyes to the bright light of the television.

"_In other news…_" I didn't listen to the anchor as he started his report. All I cared about was the image which eventually became a video, taking up the entire screen. I couldn't believe this.

It was us. More specifically, it was me, Rogue, Jean, Scott and Logan earlier, when we were in Manhattan. We were meeting up on the street as Amara was about to destroy it. The green-haired woman, Vertigo, and the two men who were with her showed up. We fought, they disappeared. We left the scene with Amara and the video cut off.

I was stunned into silence. I didn't see anything in front of me. The anchor's voice was a faint buzzing in my ears. I think I forgot how to speak for a moment.

I came out of it in time to hear Logan growl, "Shit."

The other three X-Men had moved to stand around the TV. Ororo's dark face held concern. "What do we do now?" The television's light made her white hair seem to glow.

Xavier formed his hands into a steeple, his brow furrowed. "I don't know." Hearing these words in his deep voice, so full of wisdom, sounded strange and wrong. "This is something no one was prepared for."

"We're just lucky they didn't get good looks at our faces," Logan muttered.

Jean's jaw was taut. "We have to do something. We can't just sit here and let them speculate about who we are and what we do."

Scott stood, quickly stepping into the position of leader. "We'll figure something out," he said. "In the meantime, we have to make sure we aren't seen again. After all, the best thing a mutant has is his anonymity."

We were quiet. I found myself wishing that Wanda Maximoff and her twin brother Pietro were here. But they were with S.H.I.E.L.D., training to be agents under a program called the Avengers Initiative.

Xavier looked up at Hank. "Can you still get a hold of our special contact?"

"Yes, of course," Hank responded.

"I'll need you to commission uniforms." The look on Xavier's face was thoughtful. He was probably giving Hank details via telepathy.

Hank nodded, confirming my suspicions.

"As for the rest of you," Xavier said, "we will not be venturing out until these uniforms arrive. We must remain secret and hidden until we can be certain that our anonymity is protected." He exhaled heavily. The stress was probably taking a toll on him. "If you wish, you may go."

As soon as the words were out, Emma headed out the door. Bella exchanged glances with Logan before leaving, too. Kurt and I stood.

"You can stay if you want," I whispered.

"I would rather not," he replied. "You look ill. I think I'll make sure you can get to your room without collapsing." He took my hand in his and we walked out of the room together.

As we started up the stairs, Kurt turned his gaze upward, a contemplative expression on his face. I didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what he was thinking.

"Kurt, _no_," I said. "You've just gotten back the strength to teleport yourself four times a day. Don't even think about trying it with someone else yet." After what had happened in May (which we all half-jokingly referred to as "the Graydon Creed Incident"), Kurt's power to teleport had been severely impaired. At first, just one jaunt per day left him nearly passed out due to fatigue. I didn't want him to try it with another person, especially not me, if the strain would only cause him to lose consciousness.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just cannot help but wonder…would it really end up that badly?"

I patted him gently on the arm. "I don't know. But there's always the chance that it could. And I don't want to watch you go through that again. Okay?" We were on the second-floor landing now.

He shrugged. "Okay." As we continued walking, he said, "It feels so odd, being unable to use the gift I have. In a way, it makes me feel useless."

Oh, not this again. "How many times do I have to tell you, Kurt? You're not useless. You're sweet and kind and compassionate. You give people hope. You're like the heart of the team."

"Thank you."

I smiled up at him. "You're welcome."

We now stood outside my bedroom door on the third floor. I moved to go in, but Kurt placed a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, and Elyon?"

I faced him again. "What?"

"Don't worry about the news," he told me. "Knowing you, it will keep you up all night, and you need your rest. After all, we get to meet the students tomorrow."

I felt my expression soften at his concern. "Okay," I said. "Goodnight, Kurt."

"Goodnight, _Liebling_." He cradled my face in his hand, leaned in and placed a quick kiss on my lips. He stepped back from me slowly. "Sleep well." Then he turned and went to his room at the other end of the hall.

When he was gone, I went into my room, changed into my pajamas and washed up. After that, I flopped gratefully into my queen-sized bed, snuggling under the grass-green covers.

It was going to be one hell of a morning.

* * *

><p>I sat at my desk nervously as I waited for the students to come into the room.<p>

I had personalized the space with a few belongings of mine as well as things one might expect in a World Cultures room. There was a globe in the back corner by the window, and I had some pictures from around the world hanging on the walls. On a display mannequin was an Indian _sari_, and perched on a shelf near my desk was the tomahawk I had made when I was thirteen. Behind me were the projector screen and the world map, both of which had to be pulled down from the ceiling. I planned to add more ornaments and artifacts as the year progressed.

I found myself fidgeting in my seat, smoothing my skirt and fiddling with the strings on the front of my blouse. I looked down at my moccasins, making sure one last time that they weren't dirty.

Just then, I heard footsteps out in the hallway. I took a deep breath. _Okay, here we go._

At only sixteen students, the class was small. But I didn't mind that, as it was only a seventh-period elective. I watched them as they milled inside and settled into the variously assorted chairs, smiling politely if they glanced my way.

The bell rang, and the students were still.

I rose to my feet, aware of their questioning, curious eyes. "Good morning," I said. "My name is Elyon Ryder, and I'm your World Cultures teacher." Well, they weren't snickering amongst themselves or anything yet. This was a good start. "So, first things first. I'm gonna call role, and when I say your name, you'll answer. And no, you won't say 'absent' when I call another person's name, no matter how funny that might be." A few of them giggled. I smirked to myself. _Kids._ "Anyway, if I call your name and you go by something else, feel free to tell me." I went on with the role. "Ruth Aldine?"

"Present." The black-haired, blindfolded girl never turned her head in my direction.

I looked back down at the list. "Noriko Ashida?"

"Here," said the blue-haired Japanese girl as she twiddled with the gauntlets on her wrists, the only things to keep her dangerous electrical powers under control. "And it's Nori," she added.

I made a note of that. "Victor Borkowski?" I frowned as I read the name. "Am I saying that right?"

"Yeah," said a boy's voice. I followed and saw a reptilian young man with green scaly skin and a spiked head carapace instead of hair. Victor waved.

"Brian Cruz?"

The dreadlocked, dark-skinned young man raised his hand and inclined his head.

The next names on the list baffled me. I should have expected the quintuplets to stick together in all of their classes, but there was no way that I was reading all of their names individually. "Celeste, Esme, Irma, Phoebe and Sophie Cuckoo?"

"We're here," the identical blonde telepaths said in unison.

"Joshua Foley?"

My attention was drawn to the young man who spoke. "Call me Josh." The blond-haired boy had one of the most unusual appearances I had ever seen. He didn't have any abnormal appendages or anything, but his skin was a stunning, shining golden.

I once again looked to my list. "Megan Gwynn?"

"Here!" exclaimed the pink-haired, perky young Welsh girl. She bounced in her seat as she raised her hand, colorful insect-like wings fluttering excitedly.

"Julian Keller?"

The dark-haired telekinetic boy, who had been slouched in his seat, straightened up. "Here," he said.

I was glad to see the next name. I had talked with this student before, and she was a sweet girl. It'd be nice having her. "Cessily Kincaid?"

The red-haired, metal-skinned girl looked up at me. "Here."

"Laura Kinney?" I was surprised to see her name.

Logan's teenaged female clone retained a blank countenance, only looking at me through her curtain of long, dark brown hair. "Present."

Moving on, I read the next name, which was harder to say than Victor's surname. "Sooraya Qadir?" This actually sounded like a question, as I was pretty uncertain about the way it was pronounced.

"Here," said the quiet, accented voice. Unfortunately, I couldn't put a face with it since the girl, who was apparently a Muslim, wore a plain black _abaya_. All I could see were intense dark eyes staring out at me.

I reached the last name on the list, and it was perhaps even more of a surprise than Laura's. "Santo Vaccarro?"

Santo was a cocky Italian-American student from New York City. We had rescued him from the Friends of Humanity headquarters back in May. Since he had the ability to take on all properties of any surrounding rock, he'd looked to be made of granite for the last few weeks, his human body having seemingly disappeared. "Right here," he said from his seat next to Julian.

I laid the list down on my desk. "Okay. Since that's done, and I'm assuming that you all know the rules, we're going to use this time to get to know each other." I seated myself at my desk. "Ask me anything."

Brian raised his hand. I acknowledged him. "Where are you from?" he asked. "I mean, you don't sound like you're from around here." I noticed that he also had a faint accent of some sort, although I couldn't place it.

"East Tennessee," I said. "Although, I was born in North Carolina and lived there until I was five."

Sooraya's hand went into the air. "How long have you been here?"

"Since March."

Julian's hand also rose, though without as much apprehension as Brian's or Sooraya's. "What can _you _do?"

I couldn't help but chortle to myself. "What, you mean my powers?"

Julian nodded.

All of the students were invested upon realizing that. They leaned forward, eager to hear what I had to say.

This was too good. "Well, I can make illusions of the senses, turn invisible and I'm telekinetic. Oh, and I can create fire from my body heat." That was a relatively new talent, and one that I was still getting the hang of. Their interest sparked my own curiosity. "Now, most of you I know pretty well, but some of you I don't. Ruth? Victor? Brian? Josh? Sooraya? What are your gifts?"

Brian was the first to answer. "I can psychically influence people when I touch someone," he said. "When I touch someone, the people I pick will either run to that person or away from them."

Sooraya spoke next. "I can become sand."

"I can camouflage myself," Victor said. "You know, blend in with my surroundings. And I have a prehensile tongue, and I can crawl on walls."

Josh sounded tentative when he responded. "I can heal other people's injuries when I touch them. I don't know how far it goes, though."

Ruth turned her head slightly, so that it looked almost like she was facing me. "Professor Xavier says I am psionic. He knows not how much."

I nodded. Ruth was an odd one, to be sure, but from what I knew of her, she was a lovely girl. "Okay. Anything else you wanna know?"

Josh raised his hand. "Have you ever taught before?"

I shook my head. "No. This is my first time."

This time, Victor's hand was the one that went up. "Can you show us your powers? Of course, not the fire stuff, but some of the others?"

I smiled. This should be fun. "Okay." I took a fleeting look at the tomahawk and willed it to float down and settle gently upon my desk. Their eyes all widened. Then, before they had time to truly marvel at that, I made myself completely invisible.

They all shot back in their seats, astounded.

I made myself visible again.

"How many people can you turn invisible with you?" Nori queried without raising her hand.

"Just one other person," I said. "I'm not that powerful." I would have explained that what I was actually doing was projecting a psionic shield around my body and clothing, and sometimes a limited amount of additional mass, but I had a feeling that they wouldn't quite comprehend.

Megan raised her hand high above her head.

I let out quiet laughter. "Yes, Megan?"

Unreservedly, she inquired, "Are you and Mr. Wagner really _together_?"

Wait, what? "Why?" I raised an eyebrow. "Did someone tell you that?"

All of the girls had leaned forward, their faces anticipating. All except for Laura, who only rolled her eyes at them.

"Maybe," Megan tittered. "Come on!" she urged when I remained silent. "Tell us!"

Darn it. I looked down at my hands, a blush unquestionably giving my cheeks a burst of color. "Yes," I admitted.

"Aw," the girls all cooed together. The guys let out a collective groan of outward indifference and exasperation.

"How long?" Cessily pondered.

I giggled breathlessly, very much flustered. "Ah—since May."

Now the boys were beginning to get interested. Julian asked, "So are you two, like, _serious_?"

_Close your eyes and count to ten. Close your eyes and count to ten._ I sat up straighter and asserted myself. This was _my _classroom, after all. "You know, I think that's enough of the personal questions."

The students appeared disappointed. Well, they were just going to have to be. Not to mention that the half-day period was almost over.

All the same, I could see that they were nice, good kids, and we all liked each other so far. This would be a fun year.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_Okay, so first off, I should probably apologize for this being so late. It's been a whirlwind for me over the course of the last few weeks, since my family just made a big move out of state. Hooray for us!

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter—I know that I enjoyed writing it. And don't worry; we'll get to the other X-Men soon, and we'll see more of Amara, too. My new OC should be making a timely arrival, as well.

Remember, I love constructive criticism, so give me your thoughts on it!


	3. Chapter 3

**3. LETTER**

Wednesday arrived with little fanfare. So far, my class was going really well. I had begun the first lesson yesterday, and the students all seemed receptive and respectful. However, whenever I used the last five minutes of class for free time and a little more interrogation (as they were clearly itching to ask me things about myself), they all decided to pry into my personal life; specifically, they badgered me about the details of my relationship with Kurt. Whenever these questions were asked, I figured I would neither indulge them nor allow myself to be an enabler, and swiftly avoided answering them.

After class was over and they had all gone their separate ways, I went down the hall to Kurt's classroom, just as I had yesterday and the day before. I didn't bother knocking prior to entering, as he probably already expected me anyway. I peered inside and saw him sitting at his desk looking at a paper. I made my way in, perched on top of his desk and waited for him to notice me.

It came to my attention then that something was wrong. Kurt seemed to be contemplating the paper he held, his brow furrowed and his mouth drawn into a taut line. Whatever the sheet said obviously bothered him.

"Kurt?" He looked up when he heard the concerned tone in my voice, and his expression softened immediately. This didn't deter me. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," he said dismissively. I raised an eyebrow, and he exhaled sharply. He held up the paper. "This came in the mail today. Piotr brought it to me." Piotr, as I had recently learned it was spelled, was Illyana Rasputin's colossal older brother, whose codename was, fittingly, Colossus. "It isn't important, really," Kurt went on. "It is more who wrote it which perplexes me."

"Who wrote it?" I asked. He said nothing. "_Kurt._"

He sighed. "All right, fine. It…it says that it is from my father."

I nodded slowly as that sank in. His father had written him a letter? His father was still out there somewhere? I knew beforehand that this was probably a stupid question, but I inquired despite that. "Well…do you have any idea who your father might be?"

He appeared exasperated. "Elyon, I just found out that Mystique is my mother two months ago," he reminded me. "For all we know, my father could be anyone."

I thought over that some more. Who was one of Mystique's closest allies? With whom would she share Kurt's paternity? Who was most often seen with Mystique, at least before the whole cure mess? It came to me then. "Magneto probably knows."

"Yes, but Magneto is currently living on an island in the Indian Ocean," Kurt said, recalling Magneto's departure for the mutant haven of Genosha. He sighed again. "I bet Kitty could help us. I miss her."

"I do, too." Ever since fellow X-Man Kitty Pryde, a.k.a. Shadowcat, had left for college in Chicago, we had been without both a brilliant tactician and a friend. "We'll just have to figure this out on our own, I guess."

We both stood. He placed the letter in a drawer in the desk.

I could tell that he needed to get his mind off of this, so I went to him and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. "Don't you go worrying your tail off over this, okay?"

He returned the embrace and looked fondly down at me. "I won't." He stroked my face and moved as if to kiss me.

Just before our lips met, we heard footsteps coming right in the direction of the doorway. I scowled. He laughed lightly at the face I made, and we pulled away from each other just as Rogue and her Cajun boyfriend Remy LeBeau, also called Gambit, entered the room.

"Hey," said Rogue.

Remy studied us, seeing the way we were angled toward each other, taking note of the reluctance in my stance. He smirked, his strange red-and-black eyes twinkling mischievously. "I hope we weren't interrupting anything."

"No, you're fine," Kurt said casually.

Rogue changed the subject. "We just came to tell you about some new guys that just showed up," she said. "They're definitely not students, but they're likely not teachers, either. Do either of you know about this?"

I exchanged glances with Kurt. "No," I said. "We haven't heard anything about anyone new. Other than Xorn, of course."

"We was just wonderin'," Remy shrugged.

"What is this about new people?" The voice belonged to a Chinese man in his late thirties who was peeping his head around the doorway. Kuan-Yin Xorn entered the room timidly.

I subconsciously crossed my arms in front of my chest. I couldn't explain it, but something about the guy just felt…_off_, eerie. Maybe I was just being paranoid. "Oh, it's just a couple of new guys," I said indifferently. "Nothing major or anything."

At that moment, Rogue, Remy, Kurt and I all froze. I heard Xavier's voice in my head. _'All X-Men please report to my office at once.'_

From the confused looks on the others' faces, save for Xorn's, I could guess that they had all heard it, too.

Rogue started out the door. "Well, let's go."

"What?" Xorn looked puzzled.

"It's an X-Men thing," Remy said as we passed him.

As we went down the corridor, I could barely hear Xorn mumble, "Oh, right…of course…"

When we reached the office, we found all the rest of the X-Men standing in various places around the spacious area. Piotr, Jubilee and Bobby Drake—Iceman—were chatting away from the older team members, but apart from them, we stood as a sort of collective unit. I observed two other men in front of Xavier's desk. They must have been the new people.

Warren Worthington, Angel, approached us. "Do you guys have any idea what's going on?" He stretched out his large, feathery white wings a bit.

Remy shook his head. "Not a clue."

We all were silent then, for Xavier was rolling out from behind his desk. He smiled tranquilly. "First off," he said, "I would like you to meet Nils Styger and Kiwi Black." He gestured to the men, indicating which ones they were. "They will be staying with us for a while."

Nils Styger was a lean fellow, perhaps a little taller than Kurt, but the muscles visible beneath his dark t-shirt were evidence of someone who took care to stay in shape. His hair was cropped short and a deep jet black. Perhaps the oddest thing about him was that his skin was a shade of bright aquamarine. He watched us with pale blue eyes that might have been alarming if they weren't so friendly.

Kiwi Black was stockier, burlier than Nils, as well as shorter, and his simple vest showed off his well-built arms. His skin was a tanned reddish-brown, almost like mine. His hair was the same color as Nils', and his features were Polynesian. The intricate tattoos on his face, arms and almost certainly the rest of his body identified him as a Maori.

I saw Mystique standing alone in a corner of the office. The light cast shadows over her face, throwing into definition her newly-regrown scales. She was watching Nils and Kiwi warily. She looked at Kiwi with caution, but when she looked at Nils, she studied him intently, as though she had seen him somewhere before.

Xavier went on, "Secondly, although it pains me to admit it…I'm afraid that what we've tried to prevent for so long as finally come." He took a deep breath, and his eyebrows furrowed. "This Saturday, I have a televised news interview, during which I will make myself known to the public as a mutant."

We were stunned. There was not a sound in the room, not even of breathing.

Xavier's eyes flitted among us, analyzing our reactions. Continuing, he said, "And as such, what was always inevitable will have to occur. The X-Men's existence can no longer be secret if the school is to remain out of the scrutiny of society's eye. This is the reason for the newly-commissioned uniforms—so that when we do go out, we will remain somewhat anonymous. These uniforms will have all arrived by Saturday, and so I would like some of you to accompany me to the interview."

Scott, Jean and Hank stepped forward from where they stood together. "You know we'll go with you, Professor," said Scott with firm conviction.

"I'll go, too," Bobby said. He added, "You're gonna need a young face if you wanna appeal to kids and teenagers."

Warren straightened his shoulders and strode away from us to stand near the center of the room with Scott, Bobby, Hank and Jean. "I want to go," Warren said. "This place saved my life. It's only right that I fight for it."

Xavier smiled, and a feeling of calm tranquility passed over the room from the action. "All right, then. Jean, Scott, Hank, Bobby and Warren, I would like to speak with you. The rest of you are dismissed."

With that, the rest of the X-Men began to disperse. Mystique was among the last to leave. She and Kurt locked eyes for a moment before she exited the room.

Rogue and Remy waved and left the office. Kurt and I turned to do the same.

"Hey," said a male voice. Kurt and I turned to see Nils and Kiwi standing there. "It's nice to meet you," Nils said, revealing that it was he who had spoken.

"You, too," Kurt replied, extending his hand. "My name is Kurt Wagner." He and Nils shook hands. Kurt gestured to me. "This is Elyon Ryder."

Nils offered his hand, and I shook with him. His palms were smooth and soft. "Nils," he said. "But you two already know that." He pulled his hand back. "That's quite a grip you have, Miss Ryder."

I grinned self-consciously. "I've been told."

Then Kiwi and Kurt shook hands, and then Kiwi held his hand out to me. His hand was rougher, with a few scars.

Kurt made a motion with his arms, indicating that they were to follow us, and we walked out of Xavier's office.

"So, Kiwi, huh?" I put my hands in the pockets of my slacks as I attempted to start a conversation of some sort. "Like the bird?"

Kiwi laughed under his breath. "Actually, like a chief."

"Oh." Well, that was a bit embarrassing. "That's pretty cool."

Kurt addressed both of the newcomers. "Do you two have any belongings with you?"

Nils glanced at Kiwi, and he shook his head. "We found each other on the Internet," Nils explained. "As soon as we knew we were headed to the same place, we decided to meet up a few miles away from here."

"There was another one, too," Kiwi inserted. "But he didn't show, so we just came here without him."

Remarkable. These two guys came all the way here from New Zealand and wherever the heck Nils was from with nothing but the clothes on their backs. It reminded me of, well, me.

There was a knock on the wooden, double front doors. The four of us all followed the sound with our eyes. I turned and looked from Kiwi to Nils to Kurt. None of them moved, so I took it upon myself to answer the knock. "I'll get it," I said.

I didn't bother peeking out of the peephole, as I was too short to see through it anyway. Instead, I simply opened the heavy door on my right.

A young man stood there. With a height that appeared to be nearly six feet, he was like every male lead in every romance novel, ever—tall, dark, admittedly handsome, the works. He even had the rumpled, carefree-looking, visibly soft brown hair and the deep, coffee-colored eyes to boot. _Not _completely stereotypical was the fact that something about him seemed vaguely Mediterranean. He beamed a conventionally dashing white smile upon seeing me.

"You must be the other guy," I said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. There was no way a real person could look this totally flawless.

Mr. Perfect shrugged. "I guess I am. But really, the name's Jared Moretti." Ah, so he was Italian. That explained it.

"Jared?" Nils sounded excited. "Is that really you?"

Jared Moretti looked over the top of my head. I turned to see Kurt and the other two near the stairs. "Yeah," said Jared. "And you must be Nils and Kiwi." His brow furrowed for a minute. "Who's your friend over there?"

"Kurt Wagner," Kurt introduced himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Kurt," Jared repeated, likely memorizing the name. "It should be easy to remember you. No offense," he added with a grin. He shifted his attention to me. "And you are…?"

"Elyon Ryder," I said.

Jared's eyes scanned me up and down, taking me in, evaluating me. He smirked. "Well, Elyon, I certainly hope your attention isn't too divided."

Was he…? Yes, I could tell by the flicker in his eyes, his slightly-dilated pupils. However subtly, this stranger was _flirting _with me.

Kurt sensed it, too, for I felt him pull me close to his side almost as soon as the words were out of Jared's too-impeccable mouth. I feigned a sheepish air. "Sorry, I'm kinda taken," I said, slanting my body toward Kurt's. "And I'm pretty exclusive, being a wolf and all." Of course, Kurt hadn't truly asked me to go steady yet, and it would be awkward vice versa, but he was still my boyfriend. In the meantime, I found myself laughing inwardly at my little wolf joke.

Kurt's lips formed a flat line, and he looked like he was concentrating a little harder than usual. I knew what the problem was. He didn't know what I meant about the wolf thing. I would have clarified that it was a reference to me being in the Wolf Clan, but that possibly would have taken too long, so I just mouthed, "Later." Kurt's features smoothed.

Jared nodded his understanding, though he appeared to be a little incredulous for some reason. "I get it. I was just messing with you."

_Of course you were. _I pretended to believe him. "Hey, it's all good."

Kurt glanced back at Nils and Kiwi. "I'm going to show them to their room," he told me. "I'll be back in a few minutes, all right?"

He was leaving me alone with the new dude who had just tried to hit on me, and who might do it again? But I knew Kurt, and I knew that he wouldn't have said this if he felt that something was wrong. "Okay."

Kurt softly and lingeringly kissed me (as though demonstrating the fact that I was, indeed, his) before heading upstairs with Kiwi and Nils. I watched them go.

When I looked back to Jared, his eyes were widened a bit and he was staring at me, as if I'd just done something that he couldn't believe.

"Is there a problem?" I asked. I couldn't disguise the laughter bubbling up in my voice. The look on his face was too funny.

Jared shook his head. "No—no, there's no problem." He cursed under his breath as he stared in the direction Kurt had gone. He looked at me again. "So…You and him, huh?"

My eyes narrowed. "Yeah, me and him. What does it matter? I just met you. My interpersonal relationships are none of your business." I didn't know why I was suddenly so annoyed. Something about him made me think of someone, but I couldn't place who it was. I figured it was this peculiarity which irritated me.

Jared's countenance changed to one of acceptance. "Fair enough." His eyes moved up and down me again, analytical this time. "Why are you wearing long sleeves? It's summer."

Oh, of all questions to ask, it had to be this one. I crossed my arms and avoided his gaze. "I don't really want to talk about that."

Neither of us said anything.

To end the quiet, I said, "So, the Professor's office is that way." I pointed to my right. "He's busy right now, but when he's done, you can go in there and he'll tell you where your room is. 'Kay?"

Without another word, I went to my classroom to tidy it up. I felt Jared's stare on my back the entire time.

* * *

><p>I walked briskly down the hall of the subbasement from the changing rooms after my obligatory Danger Room session with Amara. She would have to have had one sooner or later; and although she was unprepared, she performed quite decently for a rookie.<p>

I was about to press the button to open the elevator when I heard someone behind me.

"Ah, Elyon! Would you mind if I borrowed you for an instant?"

I glimpsed over my shoulder. "Hey, Hank. What do you need?"

Hank beckoned me to follow him, and we strode down the corridor together toward his lab. "I was reviewing the data I obtained from the scan of you I procured in May," he said, "and I came across something most atypical concerning your body temperature."

I was confused, to say the least. "My body temperature?"

"Yes. I'll explain everything once we're in the laboratory." He led me onward.

Once we reached the lab, the door opened before Hank could turn the knob. Emma came out, followed by Jean. Though Jean wore a mask of calm, I could see the faintly-frayed nerves beneath the façade. She was shaken.

Hank closed the door behind us, and I took the opportunity to ask a question. "What's up with Jean?"

Hank opened his mouth as if to answer, but he shied away from it just as he did so. "I'll tell you after we're through in here," he said dismissively. "Nothing is wrong, of course, but I wouldn't want you to worry. It might affect the results." He gestured to the Plexiglas-walled chamber in the corner of the lab. "If you would step inside?" He pressed a button on the wall and the door slid open.

I stepped inside the chamber tentatively. "What exactly are you going to do?"

"It's simple, really," he said, and I knew that he was about to start a monologue. "I'm going to seal you into the chamber, which is set at a stable, room-temperature environment. Then I'll steadily lower the temperature to determine how your body reacts."

Well, it couldn't be that bad. I seated myself on the floor Indian-style. "Okay. Let's do it."

Hank pressed the same button and the door slid closed. Then the experiment began.

I could tell that the temperature was changing, as I could feel it outside of my body. I felt the chill in the air, a coolness which should have raised goose bumps on my skin. But my hairless arms remained smooth, and I didn't feel any colder on the inside.

A few degrees lower and the difference was even more noticeable. In fact, by now I could see my breath. There was no alteration in my body, however. In fact, I felt warmer than ever. It was like a glowing ember in my chest, spreading through my veins and keeping me comfortable. I noticed that the Plexiglas had fogged up, blocking my view of the outside. It was like I was in my own cozy little bubble.

Just after the temperature hit what I knew must have been below freezing, it gradually began to rise again until it was at its starting point. The door slid open.

"Remarkable," Hank muttered to himself. He jotted down some notes on a clipboard as I stood.

I approached him. "So?"

He was unmistakably very excited, though he kept himself subdued. "Elyon, it would seem as though you have a unique, unconscious ability. From what I just saw, I can deduce that you are virtually impervious to temperature, much like Ororo, although the principle differs."

While he looked over his notes with that awed, thrilled look on his furry blue face, I bluntly asked, "Will you tell me about Jean now?"

Hank's brow crumpled just barely, but it was enough to reveal that Jean's situation was less than something to celebrate. He took a deep breath. "When Charles was speaking with us, he felt something…dissimilar in Jean's mind, something that wasn't supposed to be there. He did a further scan of her mind in here, with Emma to help, as he initially feared that Jean's separate personality was reasserting itself. However, it turned out to be something else entirely."

I remembered Kurt relaying to me the catastrophe with Jean and her rather unpleasant alter ego, and I had been under the impression that the personality had been put to rest, but now I was puzzled. If it wasn't Jean's other self, then who or what was it? "Did he figure it out?"

"Jean's company did give Charles some clues," Hank told me. "But he couldn't recognize them, so he called Xorn down for help. Xorn was able to identify the signs, and he connected it with stories he knew. Stories of a powerful being which is said to inhabit the minds of those with psychic talents and use them as hosts of sorts. Xorn said that it is a cosmic entity known as the Phoenix Force."

The Phoenix Force? That sounded eerie, but at the same time, altogether plausible. "Was Xorn right?"

Hank nodded. "Oh, yes. The Force seemed to respond positively to the guess. But one can only wonder why it has taken up residence within Jean."

In all honesty, sharing a body with a being from outer space sounded pretty cool. "Why are you so worried?" I queried. "Jean isn't hurt at all, is she?"

"No, Jean isn't hurt." Hank sighed. "I suppose it's merely a sort of 'big brother instinct,' if you know what I suggest."

"I know what you mean," I assured him.

Speaking of family, I recalled Kurt's debacle earlier with the letter from his father. It sure would lift a big weight from my shoulders if I could find a way to relieve that stress. If only there was some way to find the man. In order to do that, we'd need a psionic.

Wait a second. I recollected Ruth's words from the first day of classes. _"Professor Xavier says I am psionic. He knows not how much." _If Xavier couldn't measure Ruth's power, then surely there was a chance that she might have the gifts I needed to help Kurt.

'_That's a wonderful idea, but before you continue with it, I need to see you.'_ Bella's telepathic tone was a bit irate and distraught. _'I'm in the parlor. Please be sure you're alone.'_

What could be the trouble now? _Okay, I'll be there in a minute. _"Hank, I'm gonna have to go."

"Yes, yes, do what you must." He was visibly absorbed in the test results, indicating that he didn't really care, anyway.

When I got to the parlor, I found Bella sitting on one of the couches, just as she had said. She patted the spot next to her with her hand. "Sit," she said.

I followed her instruction. "So, what did you want?"

She gazed forlornly at the space in front of her. "It's about Logan," she admitted. "I'm worried about our relationship."

I clasped my hands together in agitation. "I knew it. I _knew _this would be about Logan. You know, if you were a movie, you would _so _fail the Bechdel Test." Bella didn't look amused. I tried a different approach. "Okay, what's the deal?"

Bella's tone became flat and disconnected, likely to hide her pain. "He's been really distant lately, and he's been spending more time with Ororo than with me, and I just don't know what to do."

I cocked my head quizzically. "And you're asking _me _for help? I'm in the middle of the honeymoon phase of my first relationship _ever_, and you want advice from _me_." I pointed to myself to emphasize the incongruity of the situation. "Why? You've had boyfriends before. You should know how to handle it."

"This is different," Bella stressed. "Whenever they weren't feeling it anymore, they let me know. But Logan's just pretending like nothing's wrong."

I stood up and faced Bella. "Listen, Bells," I said sharply. "I've got no experience with this. Zip. Zilch. Nada. I hate to sound cruel, but if you have a problem, you need to work it out yourself, okay?"

"Okay," Bella said quietly. With that, I left her to come up with a solution for her dilemma.

* * *

><p>After my class the next day, I waited patiently for the students, except for Ruth, the leave the room. I had already informed Kurt of my plan and was expecting his arrival at any moment.<p>

Ruth approached my desk just as Julian and Josh made their way into the hall. "You wanted to see me, yes?"

"Yes," I responded, and no sooner was the word out of my mouth than Kurt appeared beside me with a _bamf _sound, a puff of brimstone smoke and a devilish grin. I lowered my eyebrows at him in a condescending glower. He should have known better than to be teleporting so frivolously. I turned my attention back to Ruth. "Have a seat."

She pulled up an ornate chair, one made of cherry wood with emerald upholstering, with surprising ease. She sat down in it and aligned her face with mine with almost spooky accuracy.

I folded my hands on top of the desk. "Where do you want to start, Ruth?"

"Wherever you wish," Ruth said.

I thought about that for a moment. "Okay. How about we start with taking off that blindfold?"

Ruth stiffened. "I…I would rather not," she said hesitantly.

Kurt bent down a little bit. "There is no reason to be scared," he said soothingly. His tail settled onto my thigh, seemingly more out of habit and less out of conscious effort.

Ruth showed no surprise at hearing him. "I know, Mr. Wagner," she said. "I will try." And then she lifted her hands to the back of her head, untied the cloth bound in front of her eyes and pulled it down from her face.

In the area the blindfold had been covering, I could see only skin. That was all—flaps of skin where her eyes would be. Did she even have eyes under it? I couldn't tell. It was one of the creepiest things I had ever seen.

"I cannot open my eyes," Ruth said, stating what was already plain as day.

Unsure of how to respond, I stuck with, "Oh."

Ruth replaced the blindfold.

I moved on from that. "Ah…Ruth, you told me the other day that you have psionic powers. How exactly does that work? I mean, can you see the future and things like that?"

Ruth considered that for a second. She pulled her ever-present pink shawl snugger about her shoulders. "I hear thoughts, all thoughts," she answered finally. "The past, present and future come to me in visions. I see everything, even that which is unseen."

She could see that which was unseen? What on Earth was _that _supposed to mean?

"I see you," Ruth went on in her vague yet conversational tone. "You have brown hair, dark skin and black eyes. You have many scars on your arms and one on your left leg from a gunshot wound. You would have worn black shoes today, yes, before you changed your mind. You are small; you stand only at Mr. Wagner's shoulder. You sometimes…hmm, perhaps that would be too much."

What could be so humiliating about me that she couldn't say it? Instead of letting it trouble me, I listened to her as she kept talking.

"I see Mr. Wagner, also," Ruth said, an indistinct smile gracing her lips. "He is blue and he has scars, too. His eyes are yellow and his hair is curly and black. He was an acrobat in the circus before. He has a long, pointed tail. It has a sharp tip, did you know? It rests on your leg now. And…Mr. Wagner!" Her face took on a look of pleasant, if playfully admonishing surprise.

From Kurt's stunned, somewhat abashed aspect, I could assume that he knew full well what Ruth had just picked up from his mind. I glanced back and forth between them, trying to determine what exactly it was. "What?" I probed, mystified.

"Nothing," Kurt and Ruth said in unison.

_Leave it alone, Elyon. Just leave it alone._ I shook it off and turned back to Ruth. "That's really cool, Ruth," I said. I was being truthful, as Ruth's ability was cool in a way that was sort of disturbing. "If you don't mind, I want to try something with you."

Her eyebrows creased even before I fetched the utensils from my desk. "Paper?" She sounded doubtful. I pushed the blank sheet and one of my best Number 2s toward her. "And pencil?" Now she was a bit stressed. "What is this?"

Oh, great. There was no way that this might have worked now that she was nervous. "I want you to try and draw one of your visions," I said, still futilely attempting to make an effort at this.

Ruth shook her head, ruffling her already messy ebony locks. "But I know not how."

I lowered my head in defeat. "Just try?" I requested feebly.

Ruth appeared truly sorry. "I cannot," she said simply. She paused a moment before adding, "But I will come tomorrow and try again!"

This lifted my spirits. Ruth really was a very nice girl. "Okay. Thank you, Ruth. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ruth moved her chair back to its original place, gathered her things and waved goodbye to me and Kurt as she walked out the door.

I slumped in my chair and raised a hand to my face. "This is gonna take a while."

Kurt crouched in front of me. "It may, but at least you are trying," he said comfortingly. "That is more than I would have done. I would have sat around and brooded over it." The last part he said with amusement in his voice. I laughed with him.

He rose and held his hand out to me. I took it, and he helped me to stand. Then he touched his forehead to mine, breathing deeply and pacifyingly, and my own respiration soon fell into cadence with his. We stayed like that without moving, enjoying the rare moment of respite.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ Yeah, so I'm sorry I don't have much to say about this chapter. But it's longer than the others, although that doesn't really matter right now.

Instead, given the day, I would much rather offer this as a tribute and send up prayers for the families of the brave people who lost their lives in New York City, Pennsylvania and Virginia on this day ten years ago, and to all of those who have sacrificed their lives in the War on Terror. They were true heroes.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. DISTURBED**

I walked slowly on the balls of my feet, shoulders hunched warily, ready to sprint if it were necessary. I didn't exactly want to get hit by a fireball today. After all, it was a bright, sunny Saturday, and I wanted to spend the rest of it outdoors.

I circled around the outside of the ring of targets in the Danger Room. "Come on, Amara," I said gently, encouragingly. "You can do this."

Amara's eyes passed over the targets several times. Her face contorted in concentration and her right hand began to glow. Just when I thought that she would create a fireball, the light of her hand faded away. Amara stamped her foot and hid her face in her hands. "No, I can't."

"Yes, you can," I countered. I stood up straighter and motioned for Amara to look at me. "There's something that the Professor said to me once," I told her, "and that I reckon he's told a few other people. He believes that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity."

Amara furrowed her brow in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Now that I thought about it, I wasn't exactly sure. At the time that Xavier had told me that, I had been having some trouble controlling my fire powers, so I had desperately taken his words and followed them without contemplating their meaning. "Whatever you want it to mean," I said, coming up with something off the top of my head. "Just try it and see."

She raised her hand. Her eyes narrowed. After a few moments, she made a fist and crossed her arms in frustration.

"You're thinking about it too much," I reasoned. "The world's most beautiful things are felt with the heart." My grandmother had taught me that. "So don't think. _Feel_. Then you'll find power."

She closed her eyes. A look of calm tranquility crossed her face. Then she opened her eyes and took aim. Her hand started to shine, and it radiated until it burst into flame. The fireball shot forth from her and hit the target's chest area without missing an inch.

She laughed with such pure joy that I found myself laughing with her. "I—I did it!" she exclaimed gleefully.

I nodded enthusiastically. "You did!" I gave a thumbs-up to Remy, who sat in the high-up control room.

The mechanical voice of the Danger Room droned: "_Session: complete._"

I patted Amara on the back and walked with her to the door. I pressed the button on the wall and the door slid aside. "You go on," I said. "You've got homework to do."

"Okay," Amara said. She waved goodbye and ran off to the elevator.

Remy emerged from the door to the control room. "She did very well, _non_?"

"She did," I agreed.

"Guess this means I won our bet," Remy grinned. "You have to make me a whole Tupperware container of fry bread."

I groaned as I remembered the deal we'd come up with just before the session started. He'd wagered that Amara would hit the target dead-on, and I had countered it. Now I had to fix him some fry bread. "I should have seen it coming," I said. "You always win bets."

"Then perhaps you should stop makin' 'em," he suggested. After a moment, he said, "The new uniforms look real nice, dontcha think?"

"They do," I agreed.

The new uniforms were very different from the old leather ones—in fact, while still black, they were made of a durable Spandex-like material, for which we were all grateful since we wouldn't have to break them in, at the same time recalling the looks of actual super heroes. While largely identical, they all had little personal touches, the most noticeable being that the large X which ran across the chest and down to the hips was in each member's signature color, along with the belt, which still had a circular X as a buckle that doubled as a communicator, gloves and boots. The men's uniforms had masks built into the bodysuit, and the women's masks were separate but extended to cover the area above the X. Those of us with psychic abilities had masks which left our hair uncovered, mostly just to identify the nature of our powers, while the other masked members wore full cowls. Those of us with obviously identifiable features—namely Ororo, Rogue, Hank and Kurt—didn't have masks at all, and neither did those who could disguise their features, like Bobby and Piotr.

The furthest deviations from the originals were the modifications. Logan's uniform had two blue-trimmed yellow stripes on the shoulders and three on either side of his ribcage, and his cowl was yellow with black fabric additions which resembled animal ears. Emma's was made of far less material and had a long cloak at the shoulders, and the entire costume was pure white. Neither Ororo's nor Piotr's had sleeves, while Ororo's had a cape attached to thick bangles she would wear on her wrists and thigh-high boots. Rogue's bodysuit had been redesigned to cover up her chest and neck. Beast didn't have gloves. Kurt's had a hole at the base of the spine for his tail and his gloves and shoes, of course, had been specifically made for him; and instead of being the crimson color of the belt and the X on the torso, they were white with red trim. Kurt had said that the design reminded him of his circus costume.

Almost like he was reacting to my thoughts, Kurt appeared in front of me and Remy, accompanied by navy-colored smoke and his trademark _bamf _sound.

"Kurt, you know you shouldn't be 'porting like that," I chided. "It's dangerous."

"I apologize," Kurt said with mock seriousness. "Besides, yesterday I teleported six times, and today this is only the first." Then he draped his arm over my shoulders and began walking with me and Remy, his tail waving back and forth in an unconscious manner which I had learned meant that he felt playful or flirtatious, usually both when it came to me (really, he could be so much like a cat sometimes). Something clearly had him in a good mood.

Remy saw this, too. "How did that interview go?" he asked. "I know we missed it."

"It went really well," Kurt enthused. An extra spring came into his step with the words. "The public reacted positively to the announcements—the Professor being a mutant, the X-Men coming into knowledge, the school's new name…" Over the summer, Xavier had changed the name of the academy from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, as now there were way more than just youngsters seeking refuge here.

"But?" I inferred that there had to be a contradiction due to his tone.

Kurt's stride became less energetic. "Apparently, Jean has decided to use 'Phoenix' as her codename. I do not think it has anything to do with her split personalities, but I cannot help but worry."

I patted his arm reassuringly. "I wouldn't be too concerned," I said, even though the news unnerved me a little bit. "Hank says she's fine."

"I know." Kurt sounded a mite glum, but he kept his content appearance.

* * *

><p>About thirty minutes after Xavier, Scott, Hank, Warren, Bobby and Jean had returned, Kurt and I were walking the path around the outside of the mansion. I had managed to convince him to come with me, telling him that it was warm day, he needed some Vitamin D and that it would give us some time to be alone.<p>

I held his hand as we ambled along. We hadn't spoken for most of the time, so I was a tad surprised when he ended the silence. "Elyon?"

"Hmm?" I looked up at his face, somehow still relatively shrouded in shadow despite the direct sunlight.

"Tell me one of your stories," he requested quietly, leading me off the path and onto the grass, beneath the shade of a tree.

"Which one do you wanna hear?" I asked, glad that he was interested.

"Do you have one about fire?" His curiosity was undoubtedly at least partially fueled by Jean's condition.

"Yeah."

He smiled softly down at me. "That one, then." He let go of my hand and sat down at my feet.

I sat down in front of him, crossing my legs like a pretzel. I tried to remember how my grandmother had told the story. "After the world was made," I began, "the animals noticed that compared to the day, nights were cold and that the moon, unlike the sun, gave neither warmth nor enough light. They decided to appeal to their relatives in the Upper World for help. After this, lightning struck a hollow sycamore tree, setting it aflame.

"The animals faced a problem, though. How were they going to get it? Raven offered to fetch the fire, but the smoke and heat turned his feathers black, and he returned without it. Screech Owl, Hooting Owl, Black Racer and Black Snake all tried, too, and experienced the same. All of them were marked by the fire.

"Finally, little Water Spider volunteered. She succeeded where the others had failed because she wove a tusti bowl." I made the shape of the bowl with my hands. "She placed the bowl on her back to hold the fire, and she carried it back to the animals. The Cherokee have had that fire ever since."

Kurt stared absentmindedly into the space in front of him. "I suppose a little goes a long way."

"I suppose it does." I shrugged.

There were footsteps on the grass a few feet away from us. We looked up to see Scott coming toward us. "I knew I'd find you out here," Scott said.

"What is it?" I twisted in the grass to face him.

Scott stopped about three feet away from us. "After we got back, the Professor checked Cerebro to see if he could pick up any brainwaves from the people we ran into in New York," he explained. "He ended up hitting a disturbance—like a psychic wall, right around Richmond. I need you two on the investigation team."

Richmond? I had passed through Richmond on my way up to Boston in the winter and hadn't noticed anything strange. I exchanged glances with Kurt, and we stood together.

Kurt had a question, and I could see it in his visage. Perhaps a little tentatively, he inquired, "How can I help? I can't teleport as well as before."

"You'll be useful," Scott assured him. "I promise."

I rubbed Kurt's shoulder comfortingly, and he and I followed Scott inside.

* * *

><p>The thing which baffled me the most about my uniform was the mask.<p>

I had already fastened the clasps that attached it to the neckline, but I wasn't sure how to get it to stay on. I stepped out of the stall and into the main part of the women's changing room.

Jean, the only other female coming on the reconnaissance mission, chuckled at me as I came out of my stall, her face already concealed. The intense red X across her upper body matched her loose-flowing hair. "Confused?"

"Just a little," I admitted.

"There are little sensors in the cloth," Jean said. "All you have to do is put it up to your face, and it'll stick to to your features."

I did as I was told. There was a slight tingling sensation in my skin, but it was over soon. I made sure that the bun in my hair was secure and pulled my gloves onto my hands before glimpsing my reflection in the mirror. My eyebrows, still exposed due to the holes left in the mask for my eyes, raised in surprise. I really did look like some kind of super hero.

Jean started to walk out into the junction that joined the men's and women's changing rooms. "Come on, let's go."

We met up with Scott, Logan (who looked positively menacing in his cowl) and Kurt. Their costumes were pretty nice.

"Hey," I said to Kurt. "What do you think?" I turned a little pirouette.

"Not bad," he said appreciatively. "Not bad at all."

"You don't look so bad yourself," I said honestly. I couldn't help but eye the way that almost every muscle, every faultless line and contour of his frame was perfectly outlined. I was relieved to have a mask that hid my blush.

A tense quiet came over us all, and without saying a word we made our way to the hangar. The ramp of the Blackbird lowered as we entered. I was the last one to get into the jet.

Jean took her place in the cockpit next to Hank, who was already there. Scott and Logan sat in the two seats behind her, and Kurt and I seated ourselves behind Hank. I looked over at Scott. "So, what's so bad in Virginia that we have to go investigate?" I inquired.

"The Professor thinks that the mental disturbance he felt has something to do with those people we ran into in New York City," Scott informed not just me, but Kurt as well.

That was a definite possibility. However, there were other options, too. Maybe the disturbance could have been a teleporter, since their mental signatures tended to be slippery to telepaths, unless they were subject to a power dampener like Kurt had been. On the other hand, teleporters were apparently very rare, seeing as Kurt was the only true one I and many others at the mansion had ever met. (While Illyana did have powers related to teleporting, she summoned teleportation disks rather than her ability being tied to her body, so she didn't exactly count.) But Scott had said that the disruption had been like a wall, so that ruled out _that _likelihood.

I leaned back in my chair and tried to unwind as the jet started up, rose from beneath the basketball court and started flying to our destination.

Kurt curled his knees up close to his chest and closed his eyes. It occurred to me that he was praying, so I didn't bother him.

I could only hope that this was all a false alarm.

* * *

><p>The round, metal door in the ground opened with a creaking sound. Jean—no, <em>Phoenix<em>—carefully set in on the grass with a low thud.

I looked back at the small, seemingly empty clearing in the woods near the highway. Even if someone stumbled upon the field, they wouldn't be able to guess that the Blackbird was even here, thanks to the cloaking shields. Luckily, even though the plane was invisible we had Wolverine to sniff it out for us in case any of us forgot where it was, "any of us" meaning me.

The hole in the ground had hardly any light to see where it led. "You're sure this is it?" I asked doubtfully.

Phoenix stepped closer to the hole, leaning forward to inspect it. She nodded. "Absolutely." She straightened her posture. "Wolverine, Sting, you lead the way."

I conjured a flame above my hand. I glanced at Wolverine. He gestured to the hole. "Ladies first."

Uncertainly, I entered the cavity, feeling around with my foot to make sure I had something to stand on. There appeared to be stairs leading downward at an angle. Feeling more confident, I put my left foot in front of my right and began walking warily into the void.

Wolverine extended his claws with a _snikt_! The only other sounds were the discreet tapping and scraping of my teammates' boots on the surface. I nearly jumped when I heard the door to the outside world close, cutting us off from the world above. There was no going back now.

I examined the tunnel around me. It had been dug out in the dirt, but it was plated entirely with metal which reflected the light of my miniature torch off of every partition. Wolverine sniffed the air every few feet.

After a few minutes of alert movement, we came across yet another door. Once again, Phoenix opened it with her telekinesis.

The space behind the door was remarkably well-lit, so much that I could extinguish my fire. Upon seeing the beakers, test tubes, stainless steel tables and high-tech computer systems, I realized that this place was a laboratory, and if the first room we came into was a laboratory, then this could only be an entire complex of them.

"Remarkable," Beast breathed. From the look on his face, I could tell that he would have loved to just explore the compound.

Something occurred to me. "A place with all the lights on can only mean one thing," I sighed. "They're home." This would make our jobs a little bit harder. "What are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?"

"Anything suspicious," Cyclops said, keeping his tone muted. "We'll have to split into groups if we want to keep hidden."

Nightcrawler moved closer to me, indicating his personal choice.

"Okay," Cyclops agreed. "That's pretty much a given. So, Sting will go with Nightcrawler and Beast will go with J—_Phoenix_. I'll go with Wolverine." It was easy to see that this arrangement especially pleased neither Wolverine nor Cyclops.

We then parted ways, keeping our wits about us as we headed in various directions.

Nightcrawler turned a left, and we went carefully down the corridor. This was starting to remind me all too much of the now-defunct Friends of Humanity base in Colorado.

One of the doors to my right was open. I tapped Nightcrawler on the shoulder and pointed to it. "What do you think's in there?" I whispered.

"_Keine Ahnung,_" he responded. "Should we see?"

"Yeah." I glanced around the hall, making sure no one was near before Nightcrawler and I hurried noiselessly into the room.

There was a steel table to the right of the room. Two of the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the ceiling with thick, leather-bound tomes.

"What isthis room?" Nightcrawler wondered.

"Dunno," I said. "Some kind of study, maybe?" I ambled over to the bookcase directly in front of us, Nightcrawler close behind me. I read the shiny print on the bindings of a few of the volumes aloud. "Let's see…Darwin's _The Descent of Man_…philosophy…genetic coding…gene splicing? In-vitro fertilization? _Recombinant DNA_? _Liberal Eugenics: In Defence of Human Enhancement_?" My tone grew increasingly more disturbed as I read, reflecting my mental reaction.

"Someone is a little obsessive," Nightcrawler muttered, disgusted.

"Definitely," I agreed. "This looks like something out of a psychological thriller." I slowly backed away from the bookcase. I didn't want to see any more of it.

Then there was the steady _tap-tap-tap_ of footsteps coming down the hallway. We were going to get caught.

I was frozen in alarm for a moment. What were we going to do? An idea popped into my head the next instant. Without a second thought, I threw my arms around Nightcrawler, pulled him onto the floor and scrambled with him under the table. I made us invisible as soon as we were sheltered. Recognizing my intent, he locked me in his grip and held me closer to him, even as we both curled our legs inward as much as we could. We had to take up as small a space as possible. We worked to make our breathing silent.

The source of the footsteps came into the room. It was the tall, American Indian man I had seen with Vertigo and the Inuit in New York, except now he was wearing some kind of body armor with all varieties of weaponry attached to his arms and his back. He was like a walking arsenal.

He stalked around the room for a moment, scoping it out. His mustache curled skyward with his upper lip in a sneer.

I looked at Nightcrawler worriedly. We had to get out of here as soon as the man turned his back to us.

When I saw the Indian's calves, bulging unnervingly beneath his pants, I motioned to Nightcrawler to ease out from under our table. He did so, and I kept a firm hold on his torso. We crept quietly to the open door.

There was no telling that the Indian could move as fast as he did, or that he would be able to hear us, but just before we reached the threshold, he rushed in front of us and blocked it with his brawny body. And Nightcrawler couldn't teleport us back to the meeting place, as we had no way of knowing how much stress that would put on his body. We were trapped.

"Who's in here?" the Indian called out in a voice like sandpaper on gravel.

Well, there was no point in trying to hide now. Reluctantly, I released my clasp on Nightcrawler and my invisibility.

The blocker's look became one of apparent shock at our sudden manifestation.

"The name's Sting," I said proudly, hiding all the fear I currently felt. I gestured to my partner. "This is Nightcrawler."

The Indian crossed his arms with a low chuckle. "Oh, don't tell me. You're X-Men."

All of a sudden, a female voice called, "Scalphunter! Scalphunter, did you find them?" A young woman of average height, similarly wearing protective coverings except for on her arms, appeared behind him, a stunned look on her face. She had cropped purple hair.

Though on the inside I pondered the seeming prominence of amazing Technicolor hair among these people, I turned to the Indian, amused with what I'd just heard. "Scalphunter? Playing to stereotypes, are we? Let me guess—Comanche?" Scalphunter only glowered. I couldn't help but snicker. "You know, if I had known your name before seeing you, I would've thought you were Dutch."

"Okay, that's it," Scalphunter growled. Addressing his companion, he said, "You take the blue devil. I'll handle the hobbit."

Aw, now _that _was just low.

The purple-haired lady lunged at Nightcrawler while Scalphunter aimed his hand cannon at me.

I had to think quickly if I didn't want to get my face blown off, so I turned invisible again and ran to his side. Despite whatever super-senses he had, the move disoriented him enough that I was able to get a few hits in with my knuckles, my hands protected with telekinetic shields.

Unexpectedly, I felt slightly silly. Here were these two people, both much taller than I, decked out in full armor with weapons of their own; whereas here were Nightcrawler and I clad in skintight unitards and a mask for me, armed with nothing but telekinesis, mind tricks, teleportation and malleable imaginations.

I inched my way closer to Scalphunter in order to force him to use his hands to fight instead of firearms. Frustrated, he put his gun on his back, leaving himself open for some good, old-fashioned, rapid-fire fisticuffs.

But there was something wrong. Every time I tried to get into his head to use my hellfire, I was pushed out again, like there was a barricade around his mind.

Just then, I saw that there was space enough to get into the corridor. I glanced around for Nightcrawler and found him adhering to the wall, just as Plum Head was. "_The hall!_" I shouted.

Nightcrawler took note of me and nodded so quickly that it was almost undetectable.

As Scalphunter took a swing at me, I ducked under his arm and rushed out into the hallway. I had to skid to a halt and ended up hitting my side against the wall. When I was free, I took off as fast as I could run the way I had been taught: back straight, fingers like daggers, leading just a bit with my pelvis and making impact on the balls of my feet.

_Where's the entrance? Where's the entrance? Find the entrance!_

_Bamf!_ Nightcrawler teleported to where I was, easily falling into a sprint beside me. He remembered the way better than I did, so I followed him.

Upon arriving in the entryway, we found that Cyclops, Wolverine, Phoenix and Beast were having our exact problems.

Cyclops blasted random-looking people across the room, knocking them into each other. Wolverine's adversary kept healing and getting back up no matter the amount of stab wounds were in his chest. Phoenix dealt several goons heavy blows with telekinesis. I saw Beast throw Vertigo into a table, breaking the beakers on it.

Someone's arms wrapped around me and I was bashed onto the ground, hard. My breath left my lungs with an audible, "_Oof!_"

I twisted in my captor's grasp, soon realizing that it was that purple-haired lady. Her clutch was inescapable. I did what I could and bit down on her upper arm.

She yapped like a hurt dog and wrestled me so that my back was on the floor, and I was pinned by her legs and hands. I squirmed ceaselessly and was rapidly able to twist my wrist out of her clasp, form a fist and pull my arm back. There was an oddly satisfying _crunch _when my fist made contact with her nose.

With a screech like tacks on a chalkboard, she dug her claw-like nails into my arms. I gasped at the smarting pain, and my first instinct was to blind her.

It was a total fluke how it worked at the precise moment I needed it most. She looked lost, confused and vulnerable for just a moment, even with her bloody, broken nose. That moment was all I needed to throw my weight and reverse our positions so that she was the one on the floor. She struggled beneath me, and soon she flung my arms from her and unbound her own. Then she managed to forcefully grab my head.

At first, I thought that my brain was being cut open. It was the worst agony I had felt aside from when I had thought that Kurt had died in my arms, but it was a very close second. It was bad enough to make me shriek and let the purple-haired woman regain the upper hand. She kept her hold on my head as she rolled to be on top of me again.

Tears filled my eyes not just from the attack, but also from the sense that I was losing an important part of me even though I wasn't sure what that part was.

Something distracted the woman enough for me to wiggle my way out from under her. Moisture impaired my vision, but there was no mistaking the blazing fire that came from Phoenix. Heat warmed my face.

There was a _whooshing _sound in my ears and the sensation of moving very quickly, as well as the distinct scent of sulfur. It was over in an instant, and I found myself a much safer distance from the fray. I wiped the tears from my eyes and saw Nightcrawler lying at my side, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, his chest heaving with the effort to take in air normally.

"_Kurt!_" I turned all of my attention to him, ignoring the residual burning in my head. "Oh my God, are you okay?" _Stupid question…_

"Yes, Elyon…I'm okay." His eyes were squeezed shut. This was why he never lied to me. He was terrible at it. As though he knew I would ask, he added, "My heart…is fine…"

I lowered my head to his chest in order to check for myself. What I heard wounded me more than whatever had been done to my mind. His heartbeat was about four times swifter than it should have been.

My arms snaked around his neck and I lay down beside him, curling my body around his. "I told you not to do that," I lamented. "I _told _you it was dangerous. Ugh, I shouldn't have gotten myself into that situation. It's my fault. Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"It is not…your fault…" In spite of his fatigue, his tone was plainly displeased. "I did what…was needed. I had to…get you away…from it. I only…need rest."

We stayed that way for a few moments until I remembered what else had happened. I looked over my shoulder to where Cyclops held a trembling Phoenix, Wolverine prowled and Beast checked on all of the people who were scattered lifelessly upon the floor.

"Cataleptic," Beast confirmed. "That was an impressive psychic discharge, Jean, but I wouldn't condone that the maneuver be repeated." He turned to a doorway and beckoned with his hand. "Come on, Clarice. You can come out now."

A girl dressed in green walked out from behind the doorway. My vision was still marginally blurry at this distance, so the only other thing I could see of her for certain was that she had magenta hair and a slender build.

I redirected my regard to Nightcrawler and snuggled nearer to him. "What the hell happened to me?" My voice was practically inaudible, betraying my underlying dread.

"I don't know," Nightcrawler answered. "But we will…figure it out…all right?" He patted my hair, and we remained without moving as we waited for the others.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_Gah, this chapter took _so _much longer than it should have to write! But the others, I hope, will be easier. Oh, and sorry about the Costume Porn (see here: http : / / tvtropes . org / pmwiki / / Main / CostumePorn; leave out the spaces) earlier. It was kind of necessary.

So, the purple-haired lady (no, I haven't given her a name) is someone I made up. She is a wall-crawler and she has the power to drain another person's powers when she touches his/her head; if the victim has more than one ability, then the power being used at that moment is the one that gets drained. She's kind of similar to Scrambler (he'll show up later) in that respect, but I originally came up with the purple-haired woman so that I could kill her off, but then I wasn't so sure anymore.

The new costumes for everyone but Emma are based on the ones from the original _X-Factor _comic starring Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Iceman, Beast and Angel. Emma's costume is intended to be an amalgam of her looks from _New X-Men_ (second series), _Astonishing X-Men_ (Joss Whedon/John Cassaday run) and her current _Uncanny X-Men_ (a.k.a. the re-launch) outfit, but it mostly looks like the _Astonishing _costume plus a mask.

What's that? You don't know what fry bread is? You're missing out. "It's like Jesus bread, it's walk-on-water bread." –Thomas Builds-the-Fire, _Smoke Signals_

The Phoenix Force is turning into some serious business. I wonder what's gonna happen next? You'll have to review to find out!

Really, though. I've only got one review so far, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the story.

Later, y'all!


	5. Chapter 5

**5. BLIND**

"What else was I supposed to do, Scott?" Jean snapped at her husband as she and Hank got the Blackbird into the air. "Elyon was being assaulted. She could have _died_. I panicked. That's that."

Scott sat back in his seat with a dejected sigh.

Being the topic of such concentrated dispute made me uncomfortable, so I was glad when we were flying once again and I could unbuckle my seatbelt. I removed my mask, unclasped it from my bodysuit and put it on my seat, relieved to feel the air touch my face again. I took my hair down and let it fall over my shoulders.

I looked at Kurt and toward the back of the plane, where the girl Hank had found sat. I rose to my feet, and Kurt followed me to the back.

The girl was nearly as alien in aspect as Kurt was. Her shoulder-length hair was a dark shade of magenta; her skin was the same pink as a new rosebud; her ears were pointed; she had two diamond-shaped tattoos which were the color of her hair on her forehead and the left side of her face; and her alert jade green eyes were entirely monochrome and seemed to have an inherently bright quality. She looked up at us guardedly when we approached her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she replied timidly.

"My name is Elyon Ryder," I said. "This is Kurt Wagner." I gestured to him.

"It's nice to meet you," Kurt added, probably to dissipate the strange looks the girl was giving him.

The girl managed a small smile. "It's nice to meet you, too. My name is Clarice Ferguson." She cocked her head quizzically. "_Who_ are you, exactly?"

There wasn't really much of a way to elaborate on that. "Well, we're X-Men." I shrugged. "We help people. That's pretty much it."

"When we aren't doing that, we're schoolteachers," Kurt noted. I had nearly forgotten that, unused to it as I was.

"Schoolteachers? Where?" Clarice asked, curious.

"At a safe place for people like us," I told her. "That's where we're going now. So, Clarice, do you have any special talents that we should know about?"

Clarice's innocently inquisitive expression became uncertain. "What do you mean by 'special talents'?"

I was almost sure that she was only asking to get out of answering, but I gave her a reply anyway. "For instance, I can turn invisible. And I'm telekinetic. I can move things with my mind," I furthered due to her somewhat confused look.

Clarice weighed her words carefully. "I can make these knives—like, made of energy—and when I throw them at things, they make them disappear. And when I think about a place hard enough, I pop up there, but I'm not sure how I do it. Oh, what's that called again? Teleporting, that's it."

I exchanged a thrilled glance with Kurt. Another teleporter! "Kurt can do that, too," I said, turning back to Clarice and trying to disguise my enthusiasm. "And there's another girl at the school who can summon these teleportation disks, but it's not the same, so…We're just really excited."

"I have never met anyone who can truly do what I do," Kurt informed her. "How far can you go?"

"I don't know," Clarice admitted. "But the creepy boss guy at the base said my range was something like 'to the moon and back.'"

To the moon and back? Wow. Wait, creepy boss guy? "Who was the boss?" I inquired. "Do you know?"

"No," said Clarice, shaking her head. "The other ones always just called him Mister Sinister."

Mister Sinister, huh? That sounded like a little kid's imaginary friend, or someone who didn't really exist but who served as a scapegoat for broken rules.

Meanwhile, Clarice made another query. "Is the place we're going really safe? I mean, I've had to hide for all of my life, so…" She looked down at her hands.

"Of course it's safe," Kurt said. "I've managed."

"Oh." Clarice's cheeks darkened. I figured that she was blushing. "I knew that. It's just…I'm not used to it, you know? And now with all of this going on and we're going somewhere and I'm completely out of the loop…I'm rambling. Sorry." She folded her hands on her lap. "Um, it's not that I don't like you or anything—in fact, you both seem like very nice people—but could I have some time alone for a while? I need to take all of this in."

"Sure." I took Kurt's hand, and we walked back to our former places.

After we got back to the mansion, as much as I would have liked to avoid any and all fuss about what had happened to me, as soon as we had changed back into our civilian clothes, I was rushed to the infirmary instead.

I flinched under the stares of everyone around me as I sat on the cool metal table. I felt like I was being viewed as a spectacle, even though the only other people in the room were Jean, Logan, Emma, Hank, Clarice, Kurt and Xorn.

"I'm telling you, Emma," Jean said pointedly. "It's gone. Almost like it was erased."

I wasn't so sure I wanted to know what was gone.

Jared poked his head around the corner. "What's going on? What's gone?" He came into the room, a suspicious look on his sun-darkened face.

Emma turned to face him and placed a finger over her lips. Reluctantly, she knelt before me and placed her hands on either side of my head. I could barely feel her scan, and even though it was quick, it certainly wasn't careless, since that was just Emma's way of doing things. She stood and shook her head. "It's not there," she confirmed. "There's no trace of it."

"No trace of what?" I inquired hesitantly.

"Your ability to take away people's senses," Emma said dismissively, like the knowledge was a spot of dirt on her white blouse and she was simply brushing it off of her. "You've lost it."

I realized now why it had seemed that something was taken from me. Sadness weighted down my spirits, but I kept up an apathetic visage. "I figured. It was only a matter of time, anyway. I wasn't using it very much. And besides, that's probably done me a favor. I won't have so much to keep up with, you know?"

My skin prickled. They were picking me apart, and they could all see right through my act.

I hopped off of the examination table. "I'm gonna go," I said. "I need to process this. Excuse me." With that I left.

I didn't have anywhere to go, so I stopped about ten feet down the hall. I folded my arms in front of my chest, leaned against the wall and sank to the floor in defeat. How was I supposed to cope with this? It seemed impossible.

"Hey," a very quiet voice said. I looked up to see Kurt. "Are you okay?" He put something in his pocket, but I couldn't see what it was. He crouched beside me.

"No," I replied truthfully. "No, I'm not." I released the breath I'd been holding. "I lost one of my powers, Kurt. How do you expect me to feel about that?"

"Angry," he said. "Confused. You must not know how to deal with it. It was an integral part of you, after all."

"None of this is helping," I said.

He caught and held my gaze, knowing that it was one of few ways to get me to listen. "My point is that sometimes, we lose things we do not want to lose. The world takes things from us like innocence, pride, naïveté. And we must learn to go on with our lives, and know that things will get better, all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I understand." An idea came to my mind, but I was careful about voicing it, as I had no clue what he would think of it. "Kurt…if you don't mind at all…I mean, I know it's only, like, five o'clock now, but…Would you maybe wanna spend the night with me?" I cringed a bit at the way it sounded coming from me. "It's just…I don't think I want to be alone tonight with everything that's going on. Of course, only if it's okay with you."

"If that is what you need," Kurt said. I could tell that he was mulling it over, trying to figure out what I intended. He had every right to be apprehensive, particularly given my emotional state. Either way, he draped his arm around me and rubbed my shoulder.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. We looked to see Xorn and Jared. Xorn merely offered a meek smile. Jared eyed Kurt distrustfully, studying the way we sat together before entering the elevator with Xorn.

As though attempting to ease the tension, my stomach rumbled quite loudly. Kurt laughed. "Come on." He hoisted himself upright. "Let's get something to eat." He held out his hand for me. I took it and he helped me to my feet. Then we headed to the kitchen together, both of us ready to forget this ordeal.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day was relatively peaceful. There were no more troubles to deal with, at least not at the moment. Aside from my issue, nothing went wrong.<p>

However, I did have to help take care of several things for Clarice, namely contacting the orphanage where she had spent much of her life and informing them that she was safe, and that she was at the Xavier Institute. After that, I had to fill out paperwork for Clarice's enrollment, but this didn't take as long as it would have for any other student, seeing as Clarice had been homeschooled at the orphanage up to this point. We found a room for her with Megan, and the two liked each other straightaway, much to my reprieve.

I had nearly forgotten about my agreement with Kurt until we had walked up the stairs together to turn in for the evening at about eleven o'clock.

He stopped at my door as usual. He leaned against the frame casually. "So, when do you want me back here?"

Oh, yeah. "Around eleven-twenty, maybe?" It shouldn't take me that long to get ready for bed, but I wanted to be prepared regardless.

"Okay." He lightly squeezed my hand. "I'll see you then."

"Okay." I watched him go to his room at the other end of the hall. I turned and went into my own bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, the anxiety of my unfamiliar situation actually hit me.

Oh, _God_, what was I going to wear? Pajamas were a natural choice, but I couldn't decide if I should go with shorts and a t-shirt or something else. I settled on a nice, knee-length nightgown I had purchased recently, all satiny and shiny. I took that, clean panties and a bra out of impulse, and hurried into my bathroom to wash up and make sure my hair was smooth and neat and devoid of tangles.

When I left the bathroom, the digital clock on my nightstand let me know that I had five minutes to spare, so I picked a book from the shelf across the room from my bed, sat on my chair and started skimming through the pages, debating whether I had read it before or not.

I became antsy when I had two minutes left. I continued looking through my book to calm myself, and I managed to disconnect myself from my surroundings. As a result, I was alarmed when I heard the loud sound of the air being displaced. I jumped, startled, and then glared at Kurt for teleporting when he really shouldn't. He had just gotten his energy back from saving me in Richmond, for goodness' sake!

Kurt stood there in his black cotton pants, an amused expression on his face. "One would think you would be used to that by now," he said, barely holding back a chuckle.

I opened my mouth to make a retort, but no words came to me. Instead, I picked myself up from my chair and put the book on the cushion. Without saying anything to him, I walked past him and turned down my bed.

He noticed my noiselessness. "Why am I getting the silent treatment?"

I gave him one word: "Nerves."

"Ah." After a moment, he said, "You needn't be nervous, you know."

"I know." I climbed onto the right side of my bed and slipped under the covers. I patted the spot next to me. "Uh, you can come on now, if you want."

He took my invitation and got under the covers beside me. He looked over at the lamp on my nightstand and then at me.

"You can turn it off," I said.

He reached over and turned out the light. The only illumination now came from the digital clock, which wasn't very useful at all, and Kurt's eyes. I really needed to get a nightlight.

I lay down on the mattress, grateful for the feel of the pillow beneath my head. I heard the rustling of the sheets as Kurt shifted to lie next to me. For a minute, the only sound was our breathing. It was as though we had an unseen wall between us, making the atmosphere edgy and more than a little awkward.

In an effort to relieve some of the rigidity, I rolled onto my side and stretched out my right arm. "Do you mind…?"

"No, I don't mind." He was observing me closely, making sure I didn't overstep the boundaries we had set.

I moved to lie partially on my belly and draped my arm across his bare chest. I snuggled closer to him, pressing my frame against his and resting my head on his shoulder. "That's much better."

I felt his arm around me, and I smiled.

He always touched me so guardedly, like he was afraid that I might break. Even though I looked delicate due to my size, in his condition he was far more fragile, and _I_ ought to have been more careful with _him_. I appreciated the tenderness of his gestures nevertheless.

I looked up and met his eyes. It really was a shame that he had a tendency to blend with the shadows, at least in this case. I put my hand over his heart. "Kurt, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Elyon, I'm fine." His tone held a trace of exasperation. "What about you? I know that what happened today must have been traumatizing. I only hope that you will not have nightmares. And what of your parents and your grandmother? How will they find out? How will you tell them?"

As he spoke, my hand gradually wandered up to his collarbone, his neck and finally to his face. When he finished, I lightly placed my fingers on his lips. "You hush."

He removed my hand, and the next thing I knew, neither of us found it necessary to say anything.

The kiss was slow and gentle, more soothing and affectionate than anything else. I focused on moving with him, giving and taking, pushing and pulling, like the tide. I put my energy into my senses of hearing, smell and touch. I felt his hands on my back, never venturing any lower than my hips.

I mapped out the patterns of the scars across his torso and arms with my fingertips, tracing the thin swirls and precise lines. They were almost like art, in a way.

His tail wound around my right calf. Suddenly, it pulled up my leg, hitching my knee around his hip. Heat rushed to my face. His hands ran along the healed wounds that covered my arms before going back to my waist, holding me closer to him.

His lips parted slightly, and mine followed suit. My spine tingled when I heard my breathing intermingled with his. Feeling brave, I tentatively touched my tongue to his lower lip. An odd satisfaction came to me with my boldness, and the taste of him, though indescribable, was unbelievably delightful.

For a moment, his muscles tensed under my hands. But soon, he reciprocated the action, albeit just as shyly. Pleasure washed over me, and I pressed myself against him and tilted my head, getting closer to him and deepening the kiss. I sighed happily.

He gently broke away from me. "I think that is enough for tonight." His respiration was somewhat labored.

I hid my disappointment. I was more concerned with his health, after all. "All right." I unhooked my leg and eased myself off of him. I cuddled beside him, and he enfolded me in his arms.

It was strange, but there was something that I sometimes contemplated. Mutants' personalities tended to correspond to their power sets—shapeshifters were mostly emotionally volatile, telepaths were either aloof or overtly compassionate and elementals tended to have temperaments that matched whatever it was they controlled. Since Kurt was a teleporter, his moods could vary just as drastically as his location. At times, because of his unpredictable nature, I believed that it was easier for him to let me go.

I closed my eyes. "I'm really tired, Kurt. I'm gonna go to sleep."

"You do that." He rubbed my arm absently. "Goodnight, Elyon. I love you."

"Love you, too, Kurt." I let myself drift.

* * *

><p>I awoke with a start, scared out of my wits. My eyes snapped open, but I squeezed them shut again and held onto Kurt like I was a child and he was a blanket, relieved to find that he was still there. I was distantly aware that I was shivering.<p>

That dream had been terrible. I was falling, falling, falling from the sky, with no hope of ever stopping…

"Elyon, love, what's wrong?" Kurt's tone, although soft, was alarmed. "You're trembling. Did you have a nightmare?"

"Uh-huh." I didn't loosen my grip on him.

"Do you want to tell me about it? That might help you feel better." He gingerly caressed my back.

His intuition and insight would be greatly appreciated. "I was up in the air," I told him. "And then I just started falling, like someone dropped me."

"Hmm…" I could hear the frown in his voice. "I don't know what that could mean, I'm afraid." He hugged me to him. "Don't trouble yourself over it. You should try to sleep. It is still early."

I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes, but oblivion seemed to take forever to come to me.

* * *

><p>I was groggy upon awaking in the morning. I rubbed my eyelids and pushed myself into a sitting position. Sunlight fell warmly through my window, as the curtains had been tied back. I welcomed the heat.<p>

But something was different. Where was Kurt?

"You never told me that the Wolf Clan provided most of the warriors."

I turned in the direction of his voice. A silly smile spread across my face. There sat Kurt in my chair, holding the book I had browsed through last night. "Anything else you're learning?" I clasped my hands in front of me.

"The members of the Wolf Clan were often the protectors of the tribe," he continued. "They were known for being part of the group while keeping their individuality. Their color was red, and they represented the spiritual plane, like the sacred fire." He smirked at me. "It is fitting for you. The Wolf Clan is your mother's, yes?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"So what is your father's clan?"

"It was the same as my grandmother's—the Bird Clan."

He studied me for a moment. "Do you feel any better?"

"Loads." I stretched, raising my arms high above my head and yawning.

"That's good." He stood, placing the book on the arm of the chair. "I will go and get dressed. You can do the same, and then we will go and get breakfast together, okay?"

"Sure." I remembered something then. "Aw, shoot. I have to make Remy that fry bread I promised him."

"Fry bread?" Kurt looked a little puzzled.

I realized that he had never had fry bread before. "You can sit in the kitchen with me while I make it. I'll let you have some. It's like a deep-fried biscuit without the lard." Something nagged at my mind, something subliminal in my brain, and I sifted through my memories of the previous night in an attempt to think of it. "Oh, Kurt," I said as I remembered. "What was that thing you put in your pocket yesterday? You know, after Emma examined me."

His eyes brightened, but just barely. "I will show you after I get dressed. How long will you need?"

"Ah, give me about thirty minutes." Of course, this was allowing for a shower and blow-drying my hair, which typically took forever. It was worth it, though.

With a puff of smoke, he was gone. I got up, made my bed, got some clothes and headed for the shower, anxious to see what Kurt had to show me.

After I dried my hair, I put on my simple yellow sundress and my moccasins, although I would have gone barefoot if I could. Then I waited for him to come back to my room.

He arrived with the usual effects, dressed in a crisp white button-down and blue jeans. He held something in his hand that resembled some kind of a pedometer. "You look nice," he commented.

I held my hands behind my back bashfully. "Thanks. You look nice, too."

"_Danke_." He extended his arm, allowing me to get a better look at the device in his hand. "Do you see this?"

I leaned forward, inspecting the object more closely. What _was _this thing? "Mm-hmm. What does it do?"

He clipped it onto his leather belt. "I'll show you," he said. "Close your eyes." I did as he said, but I cracked open my left eye, unable to resist. "No peeking." I huffed and obeyed him.

A few seconds passed. Something must have been happening, the little gadget must have been doing whatever it was that it did, but there was no way to tell at the moment.

Finally, Kurt said, "You can look now."

Before me was an entirely different individual. This man had five fingers just like anyone else; he wore brown shoes on his feet; his ears did not taper to a point; there was no tail at the base of his spine; his skin had olive undertones; his eyes were a sparkling sky-blue; when he smiled at me, his canines were no longer than a regular person's. But his curly hair was that same blue-black, and his handsome features had not changed, so I knew that he was still my man. I blinked several times. All I managed to get out was, "Wow."

"It's called an image inducer," Kurt told me. "The Professor got it for me at the interview from Tony Stark."

That name rang a very loud bell. "Whoa. As in, _the _Tony Stark?" I couldn't hide my bafflement.

"Yes. It lets me disguise myself however I want with a solid hologram, like in the Danger Room." He became more and more enthusiastic, but he kept himself subdued. "I can finally go out in public without fear. I can experience everything I never had the chance to before. And I can go places with you, Elyon."

His sweetness softened my heart. At the same time, I felt as though there was something wrong here. "That's great, Kurt."

He noticed my displeasure. "You don't like it."

"No—no, I do like it, really. It's just…"

"Just?" he prompted.

I lowered my head. "You shouldn't have to hide." I straightened up. "Uh, you can turn that off now. I mean, we're not in public, so…"

"I understand." He pressed a button on the top of the image inducer, and the hologram faded away, leaving my Kurt standing there once again.

I took his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Come on. Let's go make some fry bread."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_I'm sorry this took so freaking long. I think I'm gonna have to start writing in notebooks again, so that I get less distracted.

Also, my birthday was last week! Yay me!

Okay, so if you still haven't looked up fry bread, do it. Do it now.

So, I hope you liked that chapter ending. It was a bit abrupt in my opinion, and the whole chapter feels a little too short for me, but what the hey. Also, this is my first in-depth kissing scene to ever be posted on the Internet. I hope it was not terrible.

Please don't forget to leave a review!


	6. Chapter 6

**6. TEST**

Kurt sat at the island in the kitchen, watching me as I placed the last of the dough in the frying pan. "What is the purpose of the hole in the middle?"

"Technically, it's to let the dough fry more easily," I said. "But when I was growing up, I was always told that the hole lets out any bad spirits that might be lurking around." I took the plate with the rest of the fry bread on it and dumped the bread into the open Tupperware container on the counter, leaving one piece on the plate. I turned back to the stove to flip the bread in the pan with a spoon.

When the last piece was finished, I put it on the plate and set the plate on the island in front of Kurt. I sat down across from him. "Take one."

He did so. I wanted to snicker at his apprehension, but I tensed when he actually tried it.

"Well?" I folded my hands together.

"Why have you not made this before?"

I smiled. "You never asked." I took the other piece for myself and bit into it. I closed my eyes. It reminded me of my home in the mountains. "But really, though, my grandma's is a lot better."

"You'll have to prove it." He grinned at me, but his smile faded into a very serious look when he saw something over my shoulder. I turned to follow his gaze.

Mystique observed us from the doorway.

I stood, and then tried to make a purpose of it to keep her from getting the wrong idea. "Um, hi," I said. I put my hands into the pockets of my dress.

She only inclined her head in response.

"Uh, do you want some fry bread?" I asked, heading over to the Tupperware container on the counter. "It's fresh-made. Remy won't notice if one piece is missing." I opened the container, got a piece of fry bread and closed the container again. I meekly made my way over to her. I held the bread out for her.

She looked at it skeptically before gingerly taking it from my hand. "Thank you." She glanced behind her, like she was cautious of anyone seeing our interaction. "I'd better go." Without another word, she disappeared into the shadowed hallway.

I rubbed my arm. I waited until I was certain that Mystique was out of earshot before I commented, "That was awkward."

Kurt chuckled under his breath at my statement of the obvious.

Yet another brilliant idea popped into my head, and I sat down across from him once again. I took his hand in mine. "I'm taking you out tonight," I announced.

"Out?" His befuddled expression was adorable.

"You know. 'Out' as in 'on a date.' How does that sound to you?" I kept my tone casual to hide my excitement at the prospect of an actual date with him. It was already the beginning of August, and we hadn't been on one date yet.

"Ah." He nodded, as though he had known this but wanted it confirmed. "I could be mistaken, but doesn't the man usually ask the woman for a date?"

I shrugged. "This is different. I'm not asking. I'm just gonna do it."

"Okay, then." His manner was equally relaxed.

I heard footsteps and saw someone pass the island out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see who it was. "Hey, Bella."

"Hey." She sounded glum, but she said no more.

I knew I would have to think at her to get anything out of her. _Bella, what's the matter? _

'_What's this I hear about a date?' _True to form, she changed the subject.

_You didn't answer my question. _A few months of living with telepaths had taught me how to communicate mentally with them while looking like nothing was happening. _Is this about Logan?_

'_I don't want to talk about it.'_

_Oh, come on. Now you're being ridiculous. So did you deal with your problem or what?_

'_Fine, you wanna know the truth? I broke up with him, that's what happened.'_

I dropped my front of indifference, my eyes going wide and my eyebrows rising. _You what?_

'_You "heard" me.'_

_Oh God, Bella, I'm so sorry…_

'_Save it. You're the one who told me to deal with it. I dealt with it. It's done. Now, are you going to tell me about that date or what?'_

I exchanged glances with a concerned Kurt, letting him know that nothing was wrong. _I may be taking Kurt somewhere tonight. That's all._

'_How nice.' _The thought was genuine enough. _'But just in case something happens anytime soon, I just want to let you know that you can tell me anything, okay?'_

Now she was making me feel guilty for not helping her earlier. _Okay,_ I sighed.

Bella took a pack of Pop-Tarts and left the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Oh, just drama between her and Logan, that's all," I said breezily. I didn't want him to get mixed up in anything that wasn't his business. Logan was his best friend, after all. I shifted topics. "So, where do you want to go tonight?"

He contemplated that for a moment. "Isn't there a museum in town?"

"You mean the Hammond Museum?" I had wanted to go there for a while. I hoped that he was referring to it.

"Yes, I mean that one." He nodded. "We could go there, if you want."

"Okay," I said. Warmth built up in my chest. I was actually planning a date. "I'll have to look them up, see what time they close. We might have to go a little early, but we could always stay in town afterward."

"That sounds like a plan," he agreed.

* * *

><p>I rested my head on Kurt's shoulder as we sat on the bench on the sidewalk. "This was fun." I pulled my brown cardigan tighter as the wind began to blow.<p>

We had left the mansion a little before noon and arrived at the Hammond Museum soon after our departure. Ororo drove us into town. When we were ready to come home, I would give her a call.

Kurt and I self-toured the entire museum before exploring the Japanese stroll garden. The whole experience was very peaceful and relieving. It felt good to get my mind off of all the chaos that was the past weekend.

We stayed in the garden until the museum closed at four o' clock. To my pleasant surprise, Kurt's image inducer didn't malfunction at all. I was glad to be able to spend this time with him here, even if he didn't look like himself.

"It was," he said in reply to my statement. "I enjoyed it." Absentmindedly, he asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

I pulled my cell phone from my purse. "It's almost six." I looked up at him. For the first time in a few days, he appeared to truly be at peace. This was exactly what I had wanted. The evening had been perfect.

We heard low male voices coming toward us. I sat up straighter and looked in the direction of the sound. Two tall men, one a blond, the other with red hair, approached us. "Do you mind if we sit here?" the blond questioned me.

"No, not at all," I said. I instinctively shied away from them. Something about them felt dangerous. Kurt detected this, too, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder protectively.

The blond continued whatever conversation he was having with the redhead. "So like I was saying, I don't really know about mutants getting all of this extra protection all of a sudden. I mean, they should have voting rights and stuff, but a Congress order isn't gonna stop attacks on the streets."

"Uh, no way," the ginger said. "They shouldn't even have voting rights. I mean, do they even really count as human?"

My blood boiled. Since when were mutants not _human_?

The redhead turned to me. "What do you think? Should mutants have the right to vote and stuff like that?"

Kurt remained silent. I, on the other hand, immediately lifted my chin. "I hope you know that you're talking to someone whose people didn't get the right to vote until the sixties."

"I guess that's a yes," the blond muttered.

"Temper," Kurt quietly reprimanded me.

"Feisty," the redhead noted. "I like that."

The blond ignored his friend. "What are you, then? Some kind of mutie lover?" He was asking the question mockingly, probably to annoy his friend, but I was not amused.

I rolled my eyes. "That's none of your business."

The redhead hooted in amusement. "She's a fiery one."

Kurt turned on him, his expression stern and almost startling. "You keep your mouth shut."

Ginger didn't listen to him. "And where are _you_ from?"

I rose to my feet, clutching my phone in my hand. "Kurt, I'm gonna call home." I kept my back to the men. Kurt followed me.

I found the number in my contacts list and called it. I held to phone up to my ear, tapping my foot impatiently as it rang.

Finally, there was an answer. "_Hello?_"

"Hey, 'Ro, it's me," I said tensely. I spoke in low tones to make sure that the two guys didn't hear me. "Can you come and pick us up now? We're at…" I looked up at the street sign and told it to her, not really paying attention to what it was.

"_Okay. Is there a problem?_"

"Kinda."

"_Logan and I will be there as quickly as we can._" The other end beeped, indicating that Ororo had hung up the phone.

When I put my cell back in my purse, I found that an entirely different conversation had started in the meanwhile.

"Come on," the redhead goaded Kurt. "Look at us when we're talking to you, Kraut."

"Hey!" I snapped, whirling on my heels at the slur. I stepped around Kurt, whose masked hands were balled into fists, and whose frame was now rigid with concealed ire. I stormed up to the two guys. "Don't you _dare _call him that _ever_, especially in front of me, y'hear?" I jabbed the redhead in the chest with my index finger. He stumbled backward, and it occurred to me that I had unconsciously enhanced the impact with telekinesis.

"No powers, Elyon," Kurt whispered.

"I _know_," I hissed. "Honest mistake."

The tension brewed for a few uncomfortably silent minutes with Kurt and I standing to one side of the bench (and with me fuming inside), and the blond and the redhead on the other.

Obviously in an attempt to make peace, the blond sidled up to Kurt. "Look, my friend here didn't mean to hurt your feelings. He's got some anger issues, and sometimes he just says really stupid stuff." He accidentally brushed Kurt's side, and he must have hit the image inducer, for Kurt's eyes briefly flashed back to their natural yellow. The blond didn't miss this, and he skidded away from Kurt. "What…what _are _you?"

At that moment, the redhead darted past me and punched Kurt in the stomach. My rage caught fire, and I made a mad dash for him. I took hold of his hood, pulled him down to my height and grabbed him in a headlock.

I felt Kurt's hand on my shoulder. "Elyon, please try to resolve this without violence. It isn't necessary."

Oh, darn him and his kindness. I let go of the man, but I locked in on him with an eagle's predatory stare. He was not going to get away with what he just did again.

The blond pulled the redhead to his feet. "What the hell, man?"

The redhead pretended he wasn't there. He tore loose from his friend's grip and stalked toward me. "I'm gonna rip this girl's head off."

"Yeah, right," said a reassuringly gruff voice. Logan stepped into the conflict oozing intimidation, despite the fact that he stood a couple inches shorter than the ginger guy. "That's my little sister you're messing with," he growled. This was a lie, although I was very much like a sister to him, and I thought of him as the older brother I'd never had.

I turned to my left and saw a black Maserati on the road, Ororo looking out from the driver's window.

Logan led me and Kurt to the car. "Come on, guys. Let's go." I climbed into the backseat first, while Logan went around to the passenger's side.

Unfortunately, when I got in the car, I found myself sandwiched between Kurt and none other than Jared. "Why're you here?" I demanded.

"I wanted to make sure you two were safe," Jared shrugged.

I slouched in the seat as I fastened the seatbelt. "All right, I guess that's a good enough explanation."

Ororo stared out at the men and allowed her eyes to glow white for a second. They both got freaked-out looks on their faces, and we drove back in the direction of the mansion.

I looked over at Kurt and lifted my hand to my forehead, suddenly afflicted with a headache. "Kurt, can you please turn that thing off now?"

Kurt pressed the button on his image inducer, and he was back to his beautiful blue self. He took my other hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly.

Logan glanced back at us. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm okay."

"What about you, Elf?" he asked Kurt.

"I'm fine," Kurt said simply. He looked out the window and focused his attention on the scenery.

I shook my head. "This was a disaster."

"No, it wasn't," Kurt contradicted. "It was a minor bump in the road. We made a blunder this time, but we won't the next."

I wished that I could believe him. But until he no longer had to hide behind a face that wasn't his, we would not be able to go out in public safely.

* * *

><p>I folded my hands in front of me on my desk the next day as I waited for my class to begin. I had gotten here early, and now I had nothing to do.<p>

I heard a knock on the doorway. "Come in."

Jared walked in and stood in front of the desk. "Hey," he said.

My expression soured. "What do you want?"

He put his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to see if you were feeling okay. You looked a little down yesterday."

"Why do you care?" I leaned back in my chair. "You just met me a few days ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "So to you that means that I'm not allowed to like you?"

I sighed. "No. I just thought you'd be spending more time with Nils and Kiwi. They're your friends."

He moved to lean against the wall beside me. "Yeah, but they've been too busy integrating here. Fitting in, finding a place."

"And you haven't?" I found that hard to believe.

He pretended to pick at a piece of lint on his shirt. "Well, I'm not so sure I'm going to stay here for long. Unless I have a reason to, that is." He paused. "So, I'm not really trying to insult him or anything because he seems nice enough, but…why Kurt?"

I knew exactly what he meant by that. "Why _not_ Kurt?"

"He's just…" He trailed off, probably unsure of how to word what he wanted to say.

"'He's just' what?" I prodded. "Different? Odd-looking? Foreign?"

Jared laughed. "Oh, don't get me started. I know how you females tend to go for foreign guys."

"Oh, yeah, he's totally got an edge on you just because he's not a United States citizen," I teased. I leaned back in my chair, suddenly feeling very at ease around him. "Well, if you _must _know, it's because he's kind and funny and well-read, and he has a good head on his shoulders, and he's so good to me. Not to mention that he practically gave me a home when I had none. He respects me and my boundaries. And he helped me find faith in something again." All of this was true.

Jared mulled over my reasons. "Yeah, I knew he was the religious type. He's Catholic, right?"

I nodded. "Right." I glanced at the clock, eager to have him out of here. I didn't want to think about him any more than necessary. "You'd better go. Class starts here in two minutes."

"Sure thing." Jared straightened himself up, gave a little wave and walked out the door.

* * *

><p>I straightened the pencil and paper on the desk in front of Ruth after class. "You know, Ruth, you don't have to be scared."<p>

Ruth fixed me with her unseeing, all-seeing stare. "Thank you," she said. "You and Mr. Wagner have good eyesight. Yes, better than most who can see."

What? "Umm…thanks," I said, a note of confusion coloring my tone. _I think._

At that moment, Kurt teleported into the classroom. By this point, I had realized that chiding him was of no use, so I let him give me a silent kiss on the lips without nonverbally reprimanding him.

"I can see that," Ruth informed us. "Hello, Mr. Wagner."

A flush reddened my face, but Kurt concealed any embarrassment he had much better than I did. "Hello, Ruth." He turned to me. "Any luck yet, _Schatz_?"

"No," I said. "But we're getting there." I smiled at Ruth.

Ruth offered a small smile in return, and just as she always did, she pulled a comment seemingly out of the blue. "You are very pretty, Miss Ryder," she told me. "Like a firebird." All of a sudden, she gasped and picked up the pencil.

Kurt and I froze, our eyes fixed on her hand as she began to sketch.

When she finished, I could hardly contain my joy. I took the paper and replaced it with a clean one. "I knew you could do it!" I expressed gladly. "I…" I got a closer look at the drawing. It was a woman who appeared to be floating with a flaming corona around her body, and her features were eerily familiar. "Is that _me_?"

"As I said, thank you," Ruth stated matter-of-factly. "Like a firebird."

Troubled, I opened a drawer and put the sketch inside of it. I wasn't prepared to think about it yet. Eager to move on, I asked, "Do you have anything else?"

Ruth shook her head. "No."

We waited in quiet anticipation. Then Ruth started to draw again, muttering to herself. After she was done, I took the picture.

I was astonished. The man was good-looking in a literally devilish sort of way, with pointed ears, a spaded tail, a goatee and a sly grin, and there was something about his face that I recognized, though I couldn't place it. One thought ran through my mind. _Could this possibly be Kurt's father?_

"It looks very much like him, yes?" Ruth prompted anxiously.

I barely had a voice to speak. Finally, I managed, "Uh…yes." I blinked several times, trying to find my thoughts. "Ruth, you can go now, if you want. Just promise me that you won't say anything to anyone about today, okay?" I hated having to ask her to keep a secret, but it felt necessary.

"Okay." Ruth rose to her feet. "I will see you tomorrow." She walked out of the room in silence.

* * *

><p>The lights were low in the parlor as Kurt and I sat together on the couch. We were alone, so we found it harmless to speak.<p>

Kurt shifted on the couch to face me. "Why did you ask Ruth not to say anything about the visions?" He kept his voice low.

My reply was just as hushed. "This'll sound crazy," I said, "but I've got a bad feeling about that guy Clarice mentioned—Mister Sinister."

"Oh." He propped up his elbow on the back of the couch. "And why is that?"

"Think about it!" I raised my hands and let them flop back onto my lap to emphasize my point. "He's the ringleader of those guys in Richmond, and they didn't show up until _after _Jean got the Phoenix Force. And didn't you notice how no one was trying to hurt her at the base?" I met his eyes. "Whoever he is, I think he wants something with it, or even with her."

Kurt smiled fondly. "You're so cute when you're coming up with conspiracy theories."

I returned the smile. "Aw, thank you." I let myself giggle a bit, but quickly became solemn again. "But seriously, Kurt. I just don't trust this to get out into the open."

Something poked against my hip, and I recalled putting Ruth's picture in my pocket. I removed it and unfolded it, studying the likeness. It was spooky.

Kurt looked at it over my shoulder. In a small voice, he wondered, "…Do you really think that's him?"

"I don't know." I shook my head. "Maybe it is. But we shouldn't get too worked up about it until we know for sure."

He hummed his agreement. Then he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. I sighed and fell back against him, relishing the time we had for us, but somehow having the sinking feeling that things would only get worse from here.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_And here it is, folks, at last! The conclusion (at least I think it is) of Act I! I would have finished on the 31st, but hey, it was Halloween, I had to paint myself blue and I was out really late. But on the bright side, I got loads of free candy! Hahahahaha!

Ahem.

Oh, also, I wrote a side story. (No, it's not a _west _side story, though that would be _awesome_.) It's basically a part of Chapter Five, but from a very…_different _perspective. If you all want me to post it, I will.

And reviews. I need reviews.

So, don't forget to let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**7. SIGN**

I heaved an exasperated sigh as the Danger Room scenario faded. "_Great_, I _died_." I put my hands on my hips and scowled at Emma. "Way to go, Frost."

Emma's diamond skin shifted back to normal flesh. "Me?" She raised an eyebrow at me in astonishment. "You were the one who insisted on arguing instead of escaping."

"I was trying to find the way out!" I said defensively.

"The door I showed you _was_ the way out," Emma said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest. "It led to the stairwell. Only the top floor was on fire. We could have made our way down and out before the roof caved in."

In retrospect, I realized that she was right. But I wasn't about to let her have the satisfaction. "Well, if you were so sure, why didn't you just pick me up and carry me?"

"Because you would have fought back," she retorted.

Dang, she was right about that, too. "Only because you always feel like controlling everything," I mumbled. "You've _always _gotta be in charge."

Emma returned to her diamond form and wheeled to face me. "Oh, listen to you deflect responsibility!" she snapped, the hard, grating crystals in her voice making her accusation sound even harsher. "At least I'm _willing _to take charge! You would rather either follow instruction unthinkingly or challenge authority without any reason other than for rebellion's sake."

Oh, she did _not _just go there. "I'm sorry if I don't believe in any one person being in charge of everything," I said caustically.

"Yes, because you're all about harmony and equality for all," she countered condescendingly. "I'd forgotten."

"That's _enough_!"

We both turned in the direction of Scott's voice. Scott and Kurt walked into the room. Scott's stride was punctuated with anger, but Kurt's was sadder. They stopped a few feet away from us.

"This behavior is unacceptable," Scott reprimanded us. "You are both supposed to set examples for the students—we _all _are. Yet I've never seen two people so good at acting like old ladies and four-year-olds at the same time." He raised his clenched fists and lowered them in frustration. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and me off to the side.

I glanced over at Emma, who seemed to be getting a lecture from Kurt.

"Elyon," Scott said, getting my attention. "I want you to listen to me. I know you don't like her, but Emma's your teammate now. You have to at least try to get along."

I sighed, defeated. "Okay. I'll try."

I couldn't help but be relieved when Scott went to Emma. The inability to see his eyes made him unnerving when he was chastising me. My relief vanished as Kurt approached me.

He stood in front of me. I focused on the center of his chest, unable to meet his eyes. He spoke plainly. "I'm disappointed in you."

"I know."

"Emma is my friend," he continued. "I would like for you to be nice to her."

"I _know_, Kurt."

He put his hand under my chin and tilted up my head. He gazed into my eyes imploringly. "She has been through a lot. Will you _please _be nice?"

Oh, curse him and his heartstrings-tugging expression. "I will." Thinking quickly, I added, "But only if she's nice to me, too."

He shrugged. "It's a start."

* * *

><p>The next afternoon, I was enjoying some solace when I saw something not quite right. Bella stood in front of one of the foyer's large windows looking out onto the front lawn.<p>

I walked slowly up to where Bella stood in front of the large window in the foyer. "Bella? What's wrong?"

Her ivory brow furrowed. "Some of the humans are having a riot," she said sourly. "They're outside the gates. They've got graffiti and everything." She noticed the hard set of my jaw. "Scott, Jean and Emma went out to handle it. Emma wasn't too happy about it; she was working with the Cuckoos when all of this started."

I turned the doorknob.

"What are you doing?" Bella looked at me like I was a crazy person. "It's not safe out there."

"Relax," I told her. "I'm just gonna go check it out." I was out the door and on the walkway before she could stop me.

Through the iron bars, I could see Emma, Jean and Scott, and of the three, Emma looked the lividest. In front of them were over a hundred protestors, male and female, and every color of human being except for red, oddly enough. Some of them held up homemade picket signs, and the majority of them screamed up at the mansion's windows for us to go home.

These people had to be insane. This place _was _our home.

But I was interested in observing how the trio dealt with the situation, so I ran stealthily to the oak tree near the wall and propelled myself upward, concealing myself in the branches.

The people were obviously brimming with repressed violent urges. This could get bad, very, very quickly. I leaned forward, grabbing onto a couple of branches to keep from falling off of my perch.

All at once, the protestors collapsed to the ground. Jean looked at Emma in disapproving surprise.

What the heck were they doing? I studied them, trying to decipher their comportment. They were moaning, writhing in throes and waves of pleasure…

"Oh my God!" I squeaked. My hand flew over my mouth as bile rushed up my throat, and I nearly lost my balance. In an attempt to keep from tumbling to the ground, I wrapped my arms around the trunk of the tree, doing my best not to vomit. "Oh God…I'll _never _be able to un-see that. Oh, I _really _need some brain bleach."

Faintly, I heard Emma call, "Ryder!"

I jumped from the branch, cushioning my landing with telekinesis. I walked up to Emma. "Yeah?" I hid my nausea.

"Do be a good hostess and help clean up after our guests." She looked down at them disdainfully.

I followed her eyes. The protestors seemed to have…_blissed _themselves into unconsciousness. I felt ill. "Sure. But I'm not washing their pants."

Emma didn't show the slightest hint of amusement. "That won't be necessary. They'll wake up in a few hours, feeling _very _ashamed of themselves." With that, she stormed through the gates and back to the mansion.

Jean looked at Scott. "We'll…go get cleaning supplies." Then they were gone, too, and I was left alone with the dirty people.

Thankfully, I was not alone for long. Soon, Kurt came through the gates and saw me staring warily at the unconscious people. "What happened?"

Heat flooded my face. "Emma, uh…she…um…" I twiddled my thumbs. Helpless to do anything else, I stood on my tiptoes and whispered it into Kurt's ear.

He got a disgusted look on his face.

"She's _your _friend," I reminded him.

"Yes, I know," he said acridly. He changed the subject. "Piotr and Logan will be here soon with the cleaning supplies. I heard Scott say that he and Jean had to give Emma a talk, but I did not know why." He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Piotr came out to meet us then, a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a package of sponges in the other. "Whoa. What happened out here?" He didn't have an accent like Illyana because English had been telepathically downloaded into his brain.

Kurt saw that I was too disturbed to talk about it, so he turned and said something to Piotr in a liquid, rolling tongue. I realized that Kurt was relaying what had happened in Russian.

Before Piotr could reply, Logan came up to us with another bucket and the rest of the sponges. He sniffed at the air. "Ah, crud." His nose crinkled in distaste. "We don't have to wash their pants, do we?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "Thank God." I grabbed a sponge from the bag Piotr held. "Well, boys, let's get to work."

Logan and Piotr set down their buckets. Each of us soaked our sponges in the water, and we began scrubbing the graffiti off of the walls.

As we labored, I attempted to start a conversation. "So Kurt, are there any other languages you speak that you haven't told me about?"

"Just Swedish," Kurt said indifferently.

Swedish? Since when did he speak _Swedish_, of all things? "That's what—five?" I scrubbed harder. "I only speak two fluently. And they both count as my first languages." True, I had taken German classes in high school, but I could only remember the rudimentary things. "Piotr speaks four, and so does Logan, including Japanese." I felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Yeah, but you've probably got us all beat in terms of obscurity, darlin'," Logan noted. "No offense."

"None taken." After all, Cherokee wasn't exactly a mainstream language.

We remained mostly silent for the rest of the job. There really couldn't be much to talk about when cleaning up derogatory graffiti art.

Eventually, we did get some help. Ororo came out to help us clean up the empty spray paint cans lying around with her command over the wind, but she was the only one. Presumably, no one truly wanted to come onto the scene of an ethical violation.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants once the task was finished. "I think I'm gonna go check the mail before these guys wake up." I started making my way around the passed out protestors.

"I will go with you," Kurt said, quickly catching up to me.

"Why?" I turned to him. "You expecting something?"

"Not really," he said. "I would just like to see."

We headed over to the mailbox at the edge of the driveway, and I felt grateful that the estate was so secluded. I pulled the mailbox open. A single letter was inside. I pulled it out and inspected it. There were only two words on it: "_Kurt Wagner._"

I handed the dubious letter to Kurt. "It's for you."

He opened the envelope. He had that same worried look on his face as he had when I had found him reading that letter from his father. He unfolded the paper.

I craned my neck around his arm to see the paper. I couldn't read it at all, as it was written entirely in Cyrillic characters, and I was confused as to what was making Kurt so vexed. Then I remembered that he could read Russian perfectly.

"Well?" I prodded. "What does it say?" I lowered my volume. "Is it from your dad?"

"Yes," he answered apprehensively. "He says that he is anxious to meet me, and that he wants a response." He turned his eyes skyward and whispered, "God help me."

I couldn't stand seeing him like this. "So what're you gonna do?"

He looked back to me. "I'll have to write him back, I suppose." He heaved a sigh. "That will be near impossible. I do not even know who he is!"

"How are you supposed to write a letter to your father when you don't even know who he is?" That seemed silly.

"He says that he will get it somehow." He put the letter in his pocket. "Come. We won't concern ourselves with this any longer." He took my hand and led me back to the mansion.

Despite his reassuring words, I found myself perturbed by this mystery.

* * *

><p>The scratching sound against the window of the French doors in the lounge shook me from my book and made me look up. I closed the book and looked to the window, only to see something which brought a huge smile to my face. There, looking up at me with an adorable little masked face was a young raccoon.<p>

I turned over my shoulder, wondering if anyone else was around to see it. Sure enough, I was alone. I looked back to the window, but the raccoon was gone.

My brow furrowed. I put the book down on the arm of my chair, went over to the French doors and opened them. "Where'd you go?"

"Miss Ryder?" said a creepily beatific voice. "Who are you talking to?"

I turned around to find all five of the Cuckoos standing about ten feet from me. I wasn't sure which one had spoken.

Without thinking, I answered, "_Gv-li._" They said nothing, and it occurred to me that they had no idea what that meant. "There's a coon out back."

"Oh," they said in unison.

"And you're talking to it." Celeste gave a questioning eyebrow-raise.

This undoubtedly looked really weird to them. "Yup, I'm talking to him."

They all quizzically tilted their heads to the left. "Miss Frost _did_ say you were odd," Irma noted.

I froze. My brow lowered when I registered the words. "Did she, now?"

They nodded.

"But she said nothing about you talking to animals," Esme added.

"Perhaps she forgot to mention it?" Sophie suggested.

"Maybe," Phoebe said with a shrug.

Once again all together, they asked, "Where did the raccoon go?"

Ignoring their statement of Emma's disapproval of my behavior, I answered, "I don't know. He was there, and then he just disappeared."

"Hmm." Celeste looked down at the deck and then back up at me. "Tell us if it comes back."

I smiled, glad that they didn't seem to think that I was _that _strange. "I'll let you know."

They left me by myself. I decided to head out onto the deck and wait for the raccoon to come back. I closed the doors behind me and seated myself in a chair.

Not long after that, I heard the doors open again. I twisted to see who it was, and grinned when Kurt came out to join me. "Hi," he said.

"Hey."

He sat down in the chair next to me. "What are you doing?"

I spoke in muted tones. "I'm watching for a little raccoon."

He looked down at his hands, most likely trying to recognize the word. After a few moments, his lips turned up slightly at the corners. "Ah, _ein Waschbär_." He laughed quietly to himself. "What is the Cherokee word for it?"

"_Gv-li,_" I said. As soon as I stated it, there was the scratching noise. I tapped his arm frantically. "Shh!"

Timidly, the small bandit peeked out from behind one of the large flowerpots. He tittered, and another one popped up from among the blossoms. My little coon had a brother.

"Aw," I cooed. The raccoons chirped excitedly at the noise. I giggled. "Raccoons are so cute."

Bella's disembodied voice interrupted the endearing moment. _'Elyon, it's time for your Danger Room session with Amara.'_

I huffed under my breath. "Great."

"What?" Kurt queried.

I stood. "I gotta go to the Danger Room." I regarded the raccoon brothers, meeting the steadfast stare of their shiny eyes.

Kurt stood with me. "We might see them again."

"We might." I turned my back on the brothers and went for my session, Kurt by my side.

I met Bella outside the elevator. She was going down with us to help monitor the Danger Room. But something wasn't right. She looked faraway, like she didn't see us coming.

"Uh…Bella?" I tapped her shoulder. "What's wrong, Bells?"

"Huh?" She came out of her daze. "Oh. It's you two."

"You looked a little out of it," Kurt told her. "Is something the matter?"

Bella shook her head. "No, there's nothing wrong. It's just…" Her forehead creased with concern. "Something's _off_ here. I don't know what it is or how it is, just that something isn't correct." She heaved a deep sigh. "Things are changing. I fear they may not all be for the better." She pressed the button on the elevator, and we left the subject at that.

* * *

><p>I stared up at the ceiling as I lay awake in bed that night, thinking about the dream from which I had just come. I closed my eyes to better recall it.<p>

Scott, Jean, Bobby, Hank, Ororo, Logan, Rogue, Piotr, Warren, Jubilee, Kurt, Remy, Emma, Mystique, Bella and I stood on the lawn. Suddenly, a red haze enveloped us, and I could no longer see a thing. I fell to my knees in submission. Then, the red was replaced with deep blue, which quickly faded to black.

I wondered what it all could mean. Since the message was probably a subliminal one, I would have to try to recall the symbols of my people.

Red was the color of the East, blood and triumph. Blue was for the West and meant defeat or trouble. Black's meaning was simple: death. These omens bothered me.

We might have some successes at first; that one was easy to figure. After that, we would face downfall and turmoil. If my dream was accurate, last of all, someone would die. It was the last part that distressed me. I hoped that I was wrong.

I rolled over on my side and tried to sleep some more.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**_ Yes, I'm aware that this chapter lacks much in length and substance and is not some of my best work. It is, in fact, more filler, a between-the-action piece for character-building. It's gonna be tough to compensate, so I won't even try. And I promise, Chapter Eight will be a lot longer and more suspenseful.

The part with the riot was inspired by a similar scene from Grant Morrison's _New X-Men_ (the "Imperial" story arc). I thought that it was too hysterical to leave out.

The "_v_" as represented in the Cherokee language is pronounced like a nasal "uh" sound, as one hears in French.

So, that's pretty much it.

Please don't forget to leave a review!


	8. Chapter 8

**8. UNPLEASANT**

I raised my voice above the students' excited commotion on Tuesday. "Simmer down, now!"

They quieted immediately.

I stood behind my desk. "Okay, I've got a really important announcement today, so you all need to listen up." I waited until they all had their eyes turned to me, including Clarice, who had decided to enroll in the course. "We're gonna be doing the first project of the year."

Megan sat up straighter. "Oh, cool! What's it about?"

"Hang on, I'm getting to that," I said. "This_ is_ a World Cultures class, so you all will collect information about your families—your ancestors, where you came from and how you grew up."

Ruth raised her hand. "Miss Ryder?"

"Yes, Ruth?" I turned to her. If she wanted to say something, it must have been important.

"Should we follow the closet drill now?" Ruth's normally tranquil tone was touched with slight alarm.

_Oh, no._ "Why? Is there another riot?" I worked to stay collected.

Her brows met with anxiety above her blindfold. "Worse, I think, yes."

_Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out._ "Okay, everyone needs to stay calm," I said, taking charge of the situation. "Stay calm and walk very quietly into the closet in the back of the room."

The students all stood, but I could tell that they weren't entirely sure about cramming themselves into a small space together, especially Santo. I moved to them in order to sort of herd them, and Nori and Julian stepped in to assist me. Julian opened the closet door, and everyone else shuffled inside.

"Thanks, guys," I said. "Go on in."

"Okay." Julian nodded and followed my instruction. Nori hesitated.

"_Go_, Nori," I urged her.

Nori threw back her shoulders defiantly. "No. I want to stay out here."

Dear Lord, not now. "You have to go."

"I can help!" she insisted.

I put my hands on my hips, suddenly very exasperated. "I know you can. But this isn't about whether or not you can help; it's about keeping everyone safe. I need you to go in there and keep everything under control. That's the best way you can help me right now."

She clenched her jaw in resentment. "Fine." She complied with my order.

Once I knew the kids were not in danger, my muscles instinctively tensed for a fight. Now that I was alone, I could feel the weight of a presence looming over the school, and it seemed as though it might suffocate me.

Then a male voice, all at once booming and extraordinarily soft, reverberated in my head._ 'Good day, X-Men.'_ The voice featured a posh English accent that made it both intimidating and borderline silly. _'You may call me Mister Sinister.'_

I gasped aloud. This was the man Clarice had mentioned!

_'Ah, so you know of me. How convenient.'_

"What do you want?" I found myself growling.

_'My objectives are simple,'_ Mister Sinister's voice went on conversationally, and I wondered if he had heard me at all._ 'Once I learned of your forced entry into my Virginia base, I just couldn't help myself for curiosity. Not only did you manage to make off with one of my test subjects, but you also reportedly had extraordinary abilities of your own. I had to know more, and I had to be certain that I was not misinformed, as I have been interested in some of you for quite a while.'_

Interested? What did he mean by interested?

He didn't seem to notice my thought._ 'Particularly, three of you have caught my attention. Scott Summers—Cyclops. Ruby-colored optic beams of concussive force, powerful enough to punch holes through a mountain. Jean Grey—Phoenix. Virtually limitless telepathy and telekinesis. And Elyon Ryder—Sting. Telekinesis, invisibility, illusions and the ability to ignite flames, am I correct?'_ Oh, he had to be kidding._ 'You three especially have enormous potential, far more than you could ever hope to achieve with your beloved Professor X. And I know you can hear me, so do not ignore my proposition. You could reach beyond your limits with me. Join my Marauders.'_

So_ that_ was what they were called. Well, it was much less of a mouthful than "The People with the Technicolor Hair." And on the bright side, he didn't appear to know too much about us. But he wanted _me_? That was a little extreme. "No way," I declared.

I guessed that the other two had given their answers, as well, for Sinister snarled,_ 'Very well. But know this. You have just ensured either your capture or your demise. You cannot escape me.'_

As quickly as it had come on, the heaviness of Sinister's mental presence vanished. The sun came shining through the window. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the fogginess in my mind. I had to collect myself in order to take care of the kids.

I went over to the closet and opened it to find Ruth and all five of the Cuckoos passed out on the floor.

"Psychics are down," Victor said from his perch on Santo's shoulder. "We don't know why."

"They just fell," Julian added. "But nothing hit us."

Josh looked at me with concern. "You okay, Miss Ryder? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." This, of course, was a lie. I was more worried about figuring out what was going on here. First, though, I had to address the problem of the unconscious students. "Just take the Cuckoos and Ruth down to the infirmary. Class is dismissed."

I slumped against my desk, watching the students as they shuffled out to the hallway, Santo with Ruth and three of the Cuckoos in his arms, and with the other two sisters being carried by Brian and Josh. I saw Julian get tackled by a girl with long, dark hair whom I recognized. She was a wind-manipulator from Venezuela named Sofia Mantega, and I had been speculating, along with some of the other faculty, that she and Julian had been an item for some time.

I rolled up my sleeves and stared down at my forearms, the ugly scars set into random places on my brown skin. Was this Mister Sinister_ that_ kind—a monster?

"Miss Ryder?" I looked up and saw three other pupils. Danielle Moonstar, Jubilee and Illyana stood before me. I knew that Illyana had spoken because the other two girls called me by my first name, and her Russian accent never went unnoticed.

"Yes, Illyana?" I quickly rolled down my sleeves, covering my arms again.

"The Professor was knocked out some three minutes ago," Illyana said. She had hardly talked to me before, so it made sense that her words were so stilted. She focused her attention on the ends of her straight blonde hair to avoid making eye contact with me.

"We made sure he got to the med bay, don't worry," Jubilee added.

"But Cyclops wanted us to tell you that he needs you in the war room," Danielle finished.

Scott needed me in the war room. Then this was serious. And it was exactly what I feared.

"Thank you, girls," I said. I watched them go before heading out myself.

I walked to the elevator in a daze, lost in my own head as I tried to sort through this. So an English guy (who was apparently a geneticist of some sort) had a team called the Marauders (which was clearly not on the side of good), and he wanted Scott, Jean and me to join them? What was this insanity? Well, whatever it was, at least it seemed that Kurt wouldn't have to get involved. I could have a little peace knowing that.

But there had to be more to this. More to this than Sinister wanting us on his squadron. I just didn't know what that was.

By the time I let this sink in, I was already outside of the war room. I took a very deep breath, erased any traces of fear from my face and stepped up to the door. It slid aside and I entered.

Standing in the war room were Scott, Logan, Ororo, Hank, Warren, Bobby, Piotr, Rogue, Remy, and Kurt. I realized for the first time just how much the roster of active X-Men had shrunk since I'd arrived at the mansion, and how it was even smaller without our three telepaths. It was kind of depressing.

Kurt caught my wandering eye, and I walked over to him without a word.

Scott's gaze seemed to pan over us for a few silent seconds that felt like an eternity. "Now that we're all here," he said finally. "We need to decide what we're going to do. First order of business, we should figure out how to best show ourselves as heroes to the community."

"Wait a second," I interrupted. "What about Sinister?"

The others all turned to Scott, except for Remy, who kept his face cast downward, his lips pursed in thought.

Scott heaved a deep breath. "We'll worry about that when it's time to worry about that, which will be when we have telepaths to help us."

I followed Remy's lead and looked down at the floor, irritated by Scott's authority over such matters. This issue was important. Why not talk about it now?

Scott continued in his little speech. "Back to being heroes. We should start out small, make a good impression around Westchester and work our way up from there. Does anyone disagree?"

No one spoke up except Ororo. "How exactly would we go about that?"

"I've got a few ideas," Scott assured her. "Namely, patrol units. Small squads of two or three, scattered around the area. I'd go with just the county to begin with, but then we can expand."

"When would we start?" Piotr asked.

"Tonight." Once again, Scott surveyed our reactions. None were negative, so he went on, "I'm thinking we'll need at least one telepath. We'll decide on who later. The others should be stealthy, able to make sure they don't draw attention. I'm thinking Logan, Ororo, Bobby, Remy, Kurt, Rogue and Elyon. Are we all okay with that?"

It made sense. Logan had lived as long as he could remember as a drifter, remaining inconspicuous. Ororo had been a sneak-thief in Cairo as a child. Bobby was good at blending, and like Ororo, Remy had been a thief, although he was a professional. Rogue was a runaway. Kurt melded into shadows, and I could become invisible.

Rogue was uncomfortable with the arrangements. "What about you?" she asked Scott. "Won't you be with us?"

Scott shook his head. "No. My power's not exactly subtle. But I'll check up on you regularly. That's what the communicators are for. Anyone else have any questions?"

We said nothing, but Logan still wore his characteristic scowl.

"All right, then," Scott said. "As you were."

As we split up, I could see the worry etched in Kurt's brow, though he hid it well. "Kurt?" He looked at me when he heard my voice. "What's wrong?"

And as quickly as they had appeared, all signs of Kurt's distress were gone. "Nothing, Elyon. I'm fine. Better than ever, in fact." He flashed me that smile I loved so much. I silently cursed him for covering up his problems with charm.

I eyed him suspiciously. I didn't believe him, not one bit. "Okay," I said. "Just making sure you're up for tonight." I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. We had planned to spend the evening together in peace and quiet.

"I am." He gave me a knowing look, like he had read my mind. "And besides, what could be more romantic than good, old-fashioned super heroics?"

* * *

><p>A chill wind blew through downtown White Plains, New York, about twenty-three miles southwest of North Salem. It was especially cool up on the roof of one of the buildings as we stood watch by an alleyway. Luckily the cold didn't affect me, but I wondered how Nightcrawler was dealing with it.<p>

The streetlamps were far enough below us that we remained in shadow on the rooftop. To tell the truth, Nightcrawler was the one standing watch. I was distracted by the scope of the city. Not as big as Manhattan, but still impressive.

I turned to Nightcrawler, who crouched near the edge of the building. "You see anything?" I inspected myself to make sure my costume was straightened out. Now that I thought about it, I wasn't so sure I liked the purple-on-black color scheme. I'd have to see about exchanging the purple for something else. Maybe something shinier.

Nightcrawler shook his head. "No, nothing just yet." He looked over his shoulder at me. His expression was all business, but I could see the fondness in his eyes.

Before we had arrived in White Plains, we had agreed that, for each other's safety, we would act like nothing more than fighting partners when we were on the job. If anyone knew that we were a couple, it would almost certainly mean disaster.

He must have seen the look on my face, for he asked, "What is it?"

"I'm not so sure about this color," I said without hesitation. He had come to expect silly musings from me. "It just doesn't suit me. What would you think of something shiny, like copper?"

His lips turned upward at the corners, and he shook his head again, clearly amused. "I think it would be fine. You'll have to tell Hank when we get back, of course."

I grinned at him. "Thanks, hon." I rolled my eyes when his muscles tensed. "Relax. No one can hear us up here."

Speaking of hearing, the sound of two female voices reached my ears. I made my way to the edge of the rooftop to investigate.

The young women walked down the sidewalk by our building, laughing and chatting with each other. I felt a little jealous since they were probably talking about something normal like getting a raise or some cute guy at work, even though I already had the best man in the world. They glanced over their shoulders like someone was behind them, even though they seemed to be alone. Their pace quickened until it was a jog, and they rounded the corner into the alley by which Nightcrawler and I were stationed.

I silently went to Nightcrawler, who was studying the women, and whispered, "I think they're being followed. Someone who's cloaked somehow, or something."

"We need to get down there," he determined. "I'll carry you, and you'll cover us."

"Carry me? Are you crazy?"

"Occasionally. And besides, you weigh all of ninety-four pounds. I think I can handle it." He stretched in his crouch so that he was in a crawling position. "Now, get on my back."

I huffed, but I had no choice but to take his suggestion. I straddled his back and gently lowered myself onto him, clasping my hands together above his shoulders and wrapping my legs around his waist. The proximity sent my blood pounding through my veins.

He obviously felt my heartbeat. I could hear his smirk when he asked, "See, is that so bad?"

"You'll be the death of me," I grumbled. Given the nature of being an X-Man, it was probably true.

Without another word, Nightcrawler started the careful climb down the wall. I put up my invisibility shields and stared down at the alley below us.

The two civilian women had backed into a corner. One of them cried out frightenedly, "Who's there?"

I concentrated, trying to locate whoever was following them. I had learned in the last months how to pick up on illusions, even though I couldn't pull them apart. After prodding around a bit with my mind, I felt a presence gently nudge back. The illusionist was clearly inexperienced because I heard a startled gasp just as soon as I made contact.

I tapped Nightcrawler's shoulder and pointed in the direction where I felt the disturbance. He followed my instruction and leaped from the wall, and I softened my own landing with telekinesis.

There was a loud "_oof!_" as Nightcrawler jumped atop the illusionist, who was male from the sound of it. As the assault began, a female voice cried out, "Clyde!"

I whipped around to see the owner of the voice, as well as the perpetrator of the illusion (who was now on the ground and trapped in an armlock courtesy of my incredible man). Both were small. The dark-haired man was shorter than Nightcrawler by a bit, and the woman couldn't have been more than an inch taller than I was. They both had to be younger by a few years. I felt a smidge of satisfaction at this. It would be an easy fight after all.

The man called to his companion, "Don't worry 'bout me, Bonnie!"

It was then that I noticed that both looked as though they had stepped right out of the Great Depression. There was no hiding my disbelief. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Ain't no kiddin' here!" Faster than I'd have guessed, the woman (Bonnie—_honestly_) rushed me, her right fist glowing. She punched me hard in the gut before I could dodge her.

I doubled over in shock and pain. I was completely thrown. How on Earth could she be so strong?_ Must be her mutation, dummy,_ I thought. Well, I would most definitely return the favor, or my name wasn't Elyon Layne Ryder.

I righted myself. No way this little amateur was going to beat me. She moved to hit me again, and I blocked her with nearly flawless timing. While there was still an opening, I pulled back my fist and landed a blow squarely on her jaw.

Bonnie staggered back and fell, clutching at her face. Her beret fell from her head and toffee-colored ringlets tumbled down around her fair face, stopping just below her chin. She was actually quite pretty. It would be a real shame if I had to beat her to a pulp. Maybe I could avoid that.

"We don't have to do this," I said. I crouched before her. "I don't wanna hurt you. And believe me when I say, I could really do some damage." I opened my palm and ignited a flame. Bonnie recoiled at the sudden heat. To demonstrate my point, I threw the fireball to the side of the alley. It caught on something on the ground and burned steadily.

"And what about your devil friend?" Bonnie inclined her head toward Nightcrawler, who still had Clyde in a firm armlock.

"Him?" I shook my head. "Believe it or not, he's a pacifist. He only gets violent when it's necessary."

At that very instant, Clyde bucked beneath Nightcrawler, and my man had to drive Bonnie's into the dirt to keep him restrained.

Bonnie's wide blue eyes narrowed at me, and she promptly kicked me in the pelvis.

The world spun in neverending circles. I collapsed onto my side and curled up in an attempt to protect myself. My entire pelvis tingled, and not in the pleasant way. I chided myself for not better guarding my center, as well as for probably letting Bonnie and Clyde escape. The latter was confirmed when I felt Nightcrawler's gentle touch on my back. I winced even more as the tingling subsided into numbness, since I knew that I would be sore between my thighs for hours after this.

"Where'd they go?" I managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"Away," Nightcrawler answered, his voice no louder than a whisper. "But we did what we were meant to do. They're gone, are they not?"

Huh. I hadn't thought about that. Gently, I shrugged off Nightcrawler's hand and picked myself up from the cold ground. I turned to Nightcrawler, whose frame trembled just barely in the moonlight as he rose to his feet. I beamed at him. "We did it!"

Nightcrawler smiled, too, as he reached the same conclusion that I did. We had just handled a crisis all by ourselves.

Not really caring that there were witnesses, I practically knocked him over with a hug. He returned the embrace, but he murmured, "Remember our agreement."

"I do," I whispered. "It's just a hug."

When we broke apart, I saw the two women—no, girls, since they were bubbly as any teenagers—we had saved scribbling on scraps of paper and giggling to themselves. They approached Nightcrawler timidly, seemingly forgetting that I was there. "Um, hi," said the taller of the two, a pretty, suntanned blonde with curls that nearly reached her backside. "What's your name?"

"It's Nightcrawler." He kept his composure. I was proud of him.

The girls giggled even more, probably at his accent. "I'm Amber," said the blonde. She gestured to her friend. "This is Bianca."

Bianca was of average height, and she was so pale that she could have passed for a Tim Burton character. She wore her mouse-brown hair in a short bob. "Hey," she said.

"So anyway," Amber went on, "we were wondering if you might wanna give us a call sometime?" She took Nightcrawler's hand and put her slip of paper in it. Bianca followed her lead, closing Nightcrawler's fist around the papers and winking coquettishly.

Oh, that did it. I cleared my throat loudly and tapped my foot on the ground.

Amber and Bianca turned to me. "Oh," Bianca said. "Who are you?"

I straightened my posture. "The name's Sting. I'm Nightcrawler's partner-in-crimefighting." Saying it out loud made me realize that my codename sounded silly and amateurish compared to everyone else's. I'd have to change that along with my uniform.

The two girls nearly squealed with delight. I heard Amber gush, "She's so small!"

God. What was I, a baby doll? I tried to ignore them. "You know, if I were you two, I'd hightail it out of this here alley."

Bianca shrugged. "Okay." They both headed out, but Amber actually had the nerve to slide her hand across Nightcrawler's shoulder as they left.

Once they were out of earshot, I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed, "Next time we go anywhere, Kurt, I'm gonna have to make sure the local females keep their little paws off of you."

Something dawned on him, and he grinned at me. "You are jealous, aren't you?"

"Jealous? Of_ them_? No way. They were only tall and they actually had curves and butts that weren't flat, and they didn't look like they needed any help in the bust area. Now, why would I be jealous of that?" My voice was saturated with sarcasm. I looked down at my chest self-consciously. _Oh, the perils passed down from my ancestors._

Nightcrawler's expression became sympathetic. "Stop that. You're perfect the way you are."

I slouched. "Thanks. It's nice to know that someone thinks so."

"I know so," Kurt said firmly. "You're beautiful. You're...you're my Indian princess."

Aww. He really deserved more than a mere hug, and I was starting to feel cheated. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my body to his.

"Elyon!" he warned me.

"Relax," I said. "We're alone now."

"Well, it's nice to see you two have finished up here," said the chilly voice which came from the mouth of the alley. "Unless you were just getting started, of course."

We turned. Emma stood there with a smug smirk that made me resent her telepathy. Iceman was beside her, looking a smidge embarrassed. They came up to us leisurely.

"So what happened?" Iceman looked around the alley. My still-burning fire caught his eye.

"Two mutants cornered these two human girls," I said.

"They planned to attack with their powers and rob them, so we cut in," Kurt added.

I nodded, affirming his version of events. Begrudgingly, I finished, "Then the two girls expressed their...gratitude, and they left."

Emma barked a sharp laugh. "Gratitude, huh?" She tossed back her head, her masked face mirthful with my ire. "It seems you certainly can handle yourself, '_princess_.'" She turned to exit the alley. "Come on. We're headed back to the mansion."

With a reprimanding look from Kurt reminding me of my promise to be nice, I followed him, Emma, and Iceman out of the alley.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** _My apologies about the abrupt ending! It was just taking me way too long. Also, I'm not dead, so that's good. I've just had severe writer's block forever, and I've finally overcome it.

Note: Yes, I did include two mutants named Bonnie and Clyde. I am fascinated with the historical outlaws, so I thought, why not? They will play a far more important part later, I assure you, as will the students.

Correction: The attack that gave Elyon her scars was in summer, not in February. I just had a brainfart.


	9. Chapter 9

**9. RUPTURE**

When we returned from the mission that night, and after we'd changed out of our costumes, Piotr met up with me and Kurt in the subbasement.

"Kurt," he said. I could tell by his expression that something was bothering him.

"What is it?" Kurt replied, clearly befuddled.

Piotr pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. "While you were away, there was a knock on the door. When I went to see who it was, no one was there and this was on the mat." Upon closer inspection I saw that it was addressed to Kurt.

Kurt took the envelope. "Thank you, Piotr." He disappeared in a cloud of smoke and reappeared just as quickly, but the envelope was gone. I cocked my head inquisitively. "It's not important right now," he explained.

Without another word on the matter, the three of us headed upstairs to get some well-deserved rest.

* * *

><p>I drummed my fingers on my desk after class the next day. I'd been alone for a whole ten minutes. This wouldn't have been such a big deal if I hadn't been alone this morning, too. But I had been, and this worried me.<p>

I stood up from my desk and left the classroom, closing the door behind me. I made my way to Kurt's classroom, about ready to give him a piece of my mind, unless there was something wrong with him, of course. When I got there, the door was closed. That was unlike him.

I rapped on the door several times. "Kurt?"

I heard him stir within the room, but he didn't answer.

Dejected and hurt, I walked away. I only hoped I didn't have to spend the entire day alone.

Naturally, that was what I ended up having to do, anyway. By the end of the day I still hadn't seen any sign of Kurt. _Some boyfriend, _I scoffed to myself. In truth I was worried about him. What had happened to make him avoid me all day?

When night fell I knew I couldn't stand for this anymore. I made my way to the third floor and found myself outside his bedroom. I knocked hard on the door. There was no answer.

Sick of this whole thing, I entered the room and closed the door behind me.

The red décor of Kurt's room was pleasant in the daytime, but at night with only the bedside lamp providing any illumination, it was almost spooky. The curtains in the bay window were drawn (there was a set for each of the three sides). A Bible sat on the cushion, but there was no sign of its owner.

"Kurt?" The name echoed, but there was no response.

I noticed that the drapes of his four-poster canopy bed were closed. That was odd, so I went over to the bed and cautiously peeped behind the curtains. There sat Kurt, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his chin resting on his arms. Relief filled me.

"There you are," I said. "I haven't seen you all day." I crawled across the bed to sit beside him, letting the curtains fall to their previous position. He didn't acknowledge my presence. "Kurt, is something the matter?"

He said nothing.

"Come on, hon, talk to me."

He continued staring into space.

"Won't you at least _look _at me?"

He did, but his brows were slightly furrowed.

I frowned. "That's better. Now please answer my question. Is something wrong?"

"No." He looked away from me again.

It was blatantly obvious to me that he was not telling the truth. "Stop lying to me," I said. "Did one of the students give you trouble?"

"No."

"Did you have to break up a fight?"

"No."

"Are you feeling homesick?"

"_Nein_, Elyon." He actually sounded annoyed with me.

I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Then what _is _it?"

"It is none of your concern." His tone was that of forced callousness.

It dawned on me then. I ventured it cautiously. "…It's your dad, isn't it?" He didn't answer, but I knew I was right when he heaved a large sigh. I decided to be gentle with him. "Do you want me to get you a drink? Might help you feel better."

"If I want a beer, I'll go to Logan," he said.

I was a bit surprised. Although I knew he preferred drinking with Logan, he'd always let me get him beers before. "Oh…okay," I said, still trying to sort through everything. "But if there's anything I can—"

"There is not."

I placed my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he shrugged it off almost roughly. My feelings were really wounded. I got off the bed, moved to the other side and opened the curtains wide.

Kurt faced me for the first time, and the hollowness in his eyes betrayed exhaustion. "Why did you come here?"

I would have to be honest with him. "I haven't seen you today," I said. "You didn't eat with me, and after school your classroom door was closed, and I just…well, I got worried. And if you need help with anything—"

"You came in vain." His voice was both cold and desolate.

Now I was fed up with this. And when I was fed up with something, I got very Southern. I didn't truly care at this point. "Now you listen to me, Kurt Darkholme Wagner." My use of his full name caught his attention. I went on, "I know you don't wanna upset me, but when you put up these barriers I have no way of tellin' what you need or how you feel." I paused so that I might reach out to him and feel his pain, but he pushed my presence from his mind. "Kurt, please just let me—"

He finally responded to me, but it wasn't exactly what I'd anticipated. "I don't _need _your help! Do you not understand? I can handle this on my own. I do not need you or anyone else to interfere." He stood as he spoke, slightly hunched over. His eyes glowed in the shadows of the room.

I had to reassert myself. "I'm not tryin' to—"

"Yes, you are," he interrupted me. "You _always _do. You always worry—whether it's about my health or my life or whatever reason you can find to fret."

"But those are all perfectly good reasons!" _God, what's gone wrong here?_

"Perhaps," he said. "But you don't need to smother me. I am a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"You're starting to sound like me," I whispered as the realization hit.

He ignored me. "And you constantly try to make it seem like it isn't that bad, not looking like everyone else. Not looking _normal_. But you don't really know what it is like, do you?" He must have seen my expression, startled and confused, for he said, "You want to know how I feel. This is it."

He had been walking toward me during all of this, and my legs were now pressed against the bay window. My hand rested on the Bible. His eyes glowed brighter as he became angrier. I soon found myself on the cushion, curled into a ball. The ironic part of my consciousness noted that our original positions were reversed; only mine was for protection.

He loomed over me menacingly. "I'd like to see you try growing up away from the world for fear that they will harm you. I'd like to see you try being an abandoned bastard child, knowing next to nothing about how you got here. I'd like to see you try being ashamed of what you are. I'd like to see you try being persecuted for your appearance. I'd like to see you try being hunted down for _existing_."

His voice remained unnervingly calm. He was absolutely furious. I found it oddly exhilarating—I'd never seen him angry before—but it was also terrifying, which was in itself frightening. I'd never been scared of him. Now I trembled with fear.

My voice slightly shaky, I murmured, "Just so you know, I _have _tried." Louder, I said, "I don't know what the hell's eatin' at you, and frankly, I don't care. Whatever it is, you _ain't _got the right to take it out on me, or to get mad at me for caring, or to talk like I make dumb assumptions about what you've been through! Because in case you forgot, I've had _my_ share of hardships, too!" I stood and pushed him aside, a bit more forcefully than I had originally intended, and strode to the door. "And next time you need any help, don't expect me to give it to you!" I opened the door.

In my peripheral vision I saw Kurt turn to me. "_Liebling_, wait—"

I didn't let him finish his sentence. Instead, the door closed loudly behind me.

I was lost now. I didn't know where I should go. What I did know was that distress was plain on my face, even as Jared, Kiwi and Nils ascended the stairs, though I didn't fully grasp that they were there.

"Elyon, what's wrong?" Nils asked. "What happened?"

"Huh?" I looked up, just now noticing them. "I…It's nothing."

Jared stared at me. "Bullshit," he declared. "Is it Kurt? Did he hurt you?"

_Yes, _I thought. "Just—just leave me alone." I started down the hall to go to my room.

Jared grabbed my arm. "Elyon—"

I twisted out of his grasp. "It's none of your damn business!" I ran to my room and shut the door.

Once inside my room, I flopped facedown on my bed and sobbed into one of the pillows. I thought about what happened—_did I really see that look of horror on his face? Did he really reach out to me? _I felt guilty about being afraid of him. I wondered why I'd never seen this side of him. Was it a bad sign? Were we really meant to be?

There was a knock on the door.

I extricated my face from the pillow. "Go away!"

"Elyon, it's me." It was Bella.

God help me. "I don't wanna talk to anyone!"

"Don't make me read your mind!"

I couldn't have her doing that, not right now. "Come in," I said reluctantly.

Bella entered the room and cringed a little when she saw me. "Oh, jeez." She closed the door. "What happened to you?"

Where would I begin? "I—Kurt—"

"Uh-huh?" She sat down next to me.

I could hardly believe the words, even as I said them. "We—we had a _fight_."

"Oh, no," said Bella. "Over what?"

"I don't even know."

She patted my shoulder. "Well, it couldn't have been that bad. What did he do?" I didn't reply. "Did he hit you?"

I withdrew from her violently. "_No! _He would _never _hit me! How could you even _say _that?" I wiped the tears from my eyes. "What brings you here, anyway?"

"Jean felt something coming from up here," she said. "Said it felt like poison. And you know how the Phoenix Force tends to react to strong emotions. So she sent me to see what was up. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?"

She was here to help me. I might as well let her know. "Why don't you look for yourself?"

She put her hands up by my head and closed her eyes. I followed suit. My heart ached as I relived the last fifteen minutes. I knew she was done when I no longer felt her in my head. I opened my eyes. There was nothing but sympathy on her face.

"Oh, gosh," she said. "Ellie, I'm sorry."

"I just don't get it." I looked down at my hands. "I really don't."

She put her hand back on my shoulder. "Every couple fights sometimes."

"I know, but this isn't like that!" I turned to her. "Kurt was…_cruel_."

Bella stood. "Come on. Let's go talk to the others. Maybe they have some advice for you."

I rose to my feet and sniffled. Then I followed her out of my room and down the stairs to Emma's classroom. In the room sat Emma, Ororo, Jean, and Rogue. Would I really have to talk about this in front of this many people?

Jean met my eyes when we entered. I knew she could tell what had happened without having to concentrate on reading my mind. I marveled silently at the power of the Phoenix Force.

Emma, remarkably, didn't invade my privacy today. Instead she glanced up at me expectantly. "Well?"

"There was a fight," Bella said matter-of-factly.

"A fight?" Ororo said. "With whom?"

Rogue must have read the look on my face, for she got up from her seat and approached me. "Oh, sugar. Come here." She enveloped me in a long-sleeved, gloved hug. Then she led me to sit in the chair next to hers. "Tell us everything!"

"Or don't," Ororo added. "It's up to you."

"I'd rather not," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "But I wouldn't mind if someone else said it for me, if you wanna know."

Emma's eyes tightened the tiniest bit. "Kurt's been withdrawn and sullen all day. R—_Elyon _went up to confront him about it, but Kurt lost his temper and frightened her."

I shot her a look from the corners of my eyes. "Thanks, Fr—_Emma_."

"Well, it couldn't have been that bad, right?" Ororo sounded hopeful. "After all, this _is _Kurt we're talking about."

"I'm afraid it was pretty bad." Jean shook her head, as if she couldn't believe the words, even though she was the one saying them. "That's why I couldn't go up there. There was some pretty violent emotion coming from both of them."

I locked my gaze on my knees, even though I felt everyone looking at me. No one said a word. The silence was killing me, so I broke it. "I just don't know what to do."

"Well, it's like Ororo said." Rogue seemed thoughtful. "This is Kurt we're talking about. He probably feels really horrible about it."

I turned to her. "You really think so?"

"Of course!" she said confidently.

If that was the case, then Kurt would inevitably approach me to apologize. The problem was, I had no idea when he would do so.

Bella spoke up. "I have an idea for when he does apologize." I couldn't tell if she had read my mind or not.

Emma was skeptical. "Do tell."

Bella simply raised an eyebrow at Emma's tone. She addressed me. "When he comes to you to apologize, you could ask him to go out again. Somewhere relatively far from the estate, ideally. That way you can work out your issues without the students having to get too much wind of it."

Another date? "I don't know, Bella," I said. "The last time we went out, it didn't exactly play out the way we wanted."

"You can make it work," Bella said. "I'm sure of it."

The others all exchanged glances, so I assumed they approved of the plan. Unfortunately, this left me with yet another awkward silence. "Um, thanks. All of you."

Ororo smiled. "It's no trouble at all, Elyon."

I rose to my feet, eager to get out of the situation. "Well, I think I'm gonna head to bed. All of this has really tuckered me out."

"Good night, Elyon," they called out to me, with varied timing. Well, except Emma, who said, "Don't let the bed bugs bite, Ryder."

As I left the room, I heard a voice in my head. _'Elyon?' _

_Yes, Jean?_

_'Don't let any of this make you doubt Kurt's love for you. Trust me. His feelings for you roll off of him in waves constantly.'_

_Really?_

_'Even Emma's admitted that she's sensed it. She says it's "absolutely sickening."'_

_Ha!_

I could almost see her smirk. _'So you don't have anything to worry about in that area. Okay?'_

_Okay. Oh, and Jean?_

_'Yes?'_

_Thank you. For sending Bella up to me. I wouldn't have come down for help otherwise. And for being willing to help me._

_'You're welcome.'_

My eyes closed involuntarily and a firebird flashed behind my lids as Jean disconnected. Weird. That had never happened in our telepathic conversations before.

_No need to worry, _I told myself. _Hank says she's fine. _

I made my way around the corner and bumped into someone, literally. "Oh! I'm sorry about that. I…" My voice trailed off as I realized just who it was that had stopped me in my tracks.

"Is something the matter?" Mystique asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Uh, no. Nothing's the matter. I just…" I didn't know what to say to her. How was I supposed to talk to the estranged mother of my boyfriend, _especially _since I'd just had a fight with said boyfriend? "I didn't expect to see you down here." That oughtta do it.

"I see." Her brow furrowed. I figured she didn't trust my statement. I didn't blame her. "Where are you headed?"

I grabbed my arm reflexively. "I was just going to bed."

"Oh." She was quiet. "Sleep well, then."

"I will." I went upstairs with a queasy stomach. Encounters with Mystique always left me uncomfortable.

I could barely manage to ready myself for bed. Everything just felt so _wrong_. The worst part was knowing that I could do nothing to fix it. So with the night's events—the confrontation with Kurt, Jean's telepathic firebird, my run-in with Mystique—weighing heavily on my mind, I settled in for an uneasy sleep.

* * *

><p>I didn't have any reason to stick around my classroom after school the next day, so after straightening up my desk and making sure everything was in order, I took a pad and pen and left. I figured I'd go out to the deck again, so that I'd have some peace and quiet.<p>

I seated myself on one of the chairs and began to brainstorm codenames. I'd already ruled out anything and everything monosyllabic. I also knew that it had to be something that would make an impression. It didn't even necessarily have to be accurate.

At that moment, either by chance or by divine intervention, I saw something orange flicker in my line of sight. I lowered the paper and narrowed my eyes.

A red fox stood just on the edges of the forest. It stared at me with liquid amber eyes for roughly fifteen seconds, and I stared back, unable to look away from its beauty. Then it disappeared into the underbrush.

It all rushed together at once, then, and I found myself putting together the most important things about myself, including little things that reminded me of home, like the woodland animals that lived in the Smoky Mountains, my Cherokee name, some old books my father had…At last I came up with something that I thought was rather good. I circled it a few times and sat back in the chair, pleased with myself.

My moment of pride was interrupted by a soft voice. "Hey. I thought I might find you here."

I twisted in my seat. I wasn't sure if I felt pleased or not by who it was. "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt offered a small smile from where he stood in the doorway. Somewhat slowly, he moved to stand by me. "What's that?" He gestured to the paper in my hand.

"Just some ideas for a new codename," I said. I couldn't help it that my voice was muted.

"A new codename?"

I looked down at my list. "Yeah. 'Sting' is too personal. And a little amateurish compared to the rest of the X-Men. So I thought I new codename was in order." God. Had my sentences always been this clipped?

If Kurt noticed their shortness, he didn't show it. "May I see?"

I handed the paper to him. My movements were rigid. I couldn't help that, either. I turned away from him again.

"What's the circled one?" he asked.

"The one I like best," I said.

"Hmm." Even though it was a simple hum, his tone was pensive. "'Foxfire.' It suits you, you know."

"Thanks."

We were quiet. I had to admit, I was irked with him. Was he just going to pretend that last night hadn't happened, that things were still picture-perfect between us?

If he wasn't going to bring it up, I would have to do it. "Kurt—"

"Wait," he said. "Don't say anything. Just…just let me…" He knelt by my chair. "Elyon, I…" His brow furrowed in that expression he shared with Mystique. It smoothed out again, only for it to lift upward. "I am so, _so _terribly sorry for what happened last night. I had no right to say those things to you, or to make such accusations, or to lose my temper at all. I had no right to start a fight. I was being selfish, and, well, I was absolutely horrible to you. And you did not deserve that. I am sorry for being so distant, and for trying to push you away. I feel dreadful about it. I could not even sleep last night, not even a little." Now that he mentioned it, he did look a bit haggard. "The worst part of it was ending the day on a bad note between us, and not even trying to make it better when I should have. I will understand completely if you cannot forgive me." He looked so sincere. Oh, who was I kidding? He was sincere. I knew him well enough to be sure of that.

I felt my own brow furrow upward. "Kurt, I can't _not _forgive you. That would kill me inside. And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have stormed out on you like I did. I should have stayed to hear you out. We both made mistakes." I raised the corner of my mouth in a half-smile. "And, just so you feel better, I didn't sleep very well last night, either."

"I thought so," he said, the ghost of a chuckle hiding behind his voice. "You look…"

"Like hell?" I finished.

"More or less." We both laughed, a little breathlessly, since we'd already been talking quietly. Then he gingerly took my hand in his. My heart stopped for a brief moment at his touch.

Time to put Bella's idea into action. "Kurt?"

"Yes, _Liebling_?" Well, he was still calling me that. That was a good sign.

"I know this seems random, but do you wanna try going out again tonight?" It was worth a shot.

"'Out?' As in on another date?" He was puzzled.

"Yeah."

"But why?" he asked. "The last time we tried a date, it didn't end particularly well."

I shrugged. "It can't hurt to give it a go. And I thought we might try someplace farther away. Maybe not in Salem Center, or in all of North Salem, even."

He seemed more open to the notion when I said that. "Where would we go, then?"

"I dunno." I thought about it for a moment. "We could go back to White Plains. I saw a Starbucks while were there two nights ago, so we could grab a coffee. And we might be able to find a bookstore or something. How does that sound?"

He nodded as he contemplated it. "It sounds like a plan." He rose to his feet. I followed his lead unthinkingly. He squeezed my hand and shifted as if to walk away.

Without even considering it, I wrapped my arms tightly around him, effectively stopping him. "Don't—" I didn't know what to say.

"Don't what?" he said.

I nuzzled my face against his chest. "Don't ever leave me again." I hoped he realized that I was using "leave" as a figure of speech.

He returned the embrace. The hug was warm and comforting. "I won't," he said. "Don't you ever leave me, either."

I smiled against him. "I won't."

He gently kissed the top of my head. I was glad to have reconciled with him, but I knew this wasn't quite finished. The difficult part of fixing this was yet to come.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_Hello, faithful readers! I have returned for the time being!

This chapter may seem filler, but trust me. The relationship will never be the same after this.

Also, I do have an announcement: In light of realizing how difficult it is to write characters markedly older than myself, I will be updating _Time of Trial_ in places where age and year are mentioned. Some ages will go down, some will not. In any case, I will be making notes as to the rough dates of original publication of chapters which are altered. You'll just have to see in which ways these things are altered.

This has been a PSA.

Okay, so I don't really have much to say right now. I've got a lot on my mind and a lot going on. What I want is to hear what you have to say. So go ahead and leave a review! It would gladden my heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**10. CRAZY**

That night, after Kurt and I had spent the evening wandering around White Plains as civilians (him with his image inducer, of course), we sat inside Starbucks sipping on coffee. Despite the fact that our date had been peaceful and without mishap, the tension rippling between us was palpable, even though neither of us had acknowledged it.

I folded my hands on top of the table and cleared my throat. "Kurt?"

Kurt shifted his gaze from the window and met my eyes. I noticed for the first time tonight that the complexion he wore was simply tanned, without the previous olive undertones. I sort of liked it better.

I twiddled my thumbs as I thought of a way to bring this up. I would just have to tell the truth. "I just wanted you to know that this wasn't my idea. I mean, coming here was my idea, but Bella was the one that suggested we try going out again." There.

Kurt cocked his head to one side. "And what inspired that?"

Truth again. "She wanted us to get away from the estate to work out our 'issues.'" I removed my hands from the table to make air quotes.

He seemed confused. "What issues?"

I took a long sip of my coffee, giving me enough time to figure out how to word what I wanted to say. Finally I came up with something decent. "You just haven't been yourself since you started getting these letters. And when we were in your room last night…"

"I scared you." His astute observation was clinical, but he still sounded remorseful.

I couldn't lie to him about that. "…Yes." I sighed heavily. "See, when you're like that, I have no idea what you're gonna do, and it freaks me out. Usually you're kinda predictable, but maybe that's 'cause I know you so well."

A small smile graced his lips. "Probably."

I would _not _let myself get distracted by that damn smile. I would _not_. I shook my head slightly to clear it. "Anyway, what really bothers me is that you've been pretending that you're fine, and you won't let me in. When you won't let me in and tell me how you feel, it's like you're building a wall. And we promised that we'd never let anything between us." I took his hand in mine. "So talk to me. Maybe we can fix this."

He gently squeezed my hand. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"I wanna know _why _you've been so broody," I said, cutting right to the point. "Give me details."

Kurt looked down and shook his head, as if he didn't know quite where to begin. "To start, I was raised in a foster family, so I was used to not knowing much of anything about my parents," he said. "Three months ago I found out about Mystique, and while having a former terrorist for a mother is not an ideal situation, I figured I could deal with it."

I nodded. "And you did."

"But now I've been getting these letters from my father," he continued. "Although that would be fantastic, I have learned very little about him, apart from that he is apparently Russian. And this last letter…I had always hoped that even if my parents weren't married, then they at least stayed together for a while after they more or less abandoned me. That they at least wished they could keep me. But this most recent letter was the final nail in the coffin." He lowered his head, staring down at the table. "An illegitimate child. Unwanted—an accident."

Pain filled my heart at the words of his hurt. I leaned forward and spoke softly. "Kurt, there are no accidental children. Only accidental parents. What your parents did doesn't define you because you'll never be them. Understand?"

"Yes. Thank you." He looked up at me. "You know, that is not the sole source of my stress."

"I know," I said. "I wish I could say that I know how you feel. I've never really had to hide. I mean, the only physical evidence of my mutation is my eye color." Half-jokingly, I went on, "But at least you had a lot of people willing to back you, growing up. All I had were my parents, my grandmother and an imaginary friend."

"That's true," he said. He paused before asking, "Why were you so keen on finding out about my father, anyway? Ignorance is bliss."

"Yeah, but knowledge is power," I contradicted him. "And I guess I wanted to attempt to make your life even a little bit easier."

He did it again—that little half-smile that made me forget all our strife. "Really? That's very sweet of you."

I cast my eyes downward, trying to ignore the blush that crept through my cheeks.

"Now I have another question for you," he said, drawing my attention back to him. "What exactly is your problem with this?" He gestured to himself. I knew he was referring to the image inducer.

"It's not that I have a problem with it," I said quickly. "'Cause you have _very _nice features." I wasn't going to lie about that. "It's just that it's like…putting makeup on a tiger because you don't like its stripes. I happen to _like _all of your unique attributes. The blueness, the tail, everything. They're a part of who you are, and I wouldn't change a thing." I stood with my now-empty coffee cup, a plan concocting in my mind.

Kurt followed my example. "Where are we going now?"

I grabbed my shoulder bag. "A private place. I wanna demonstrate my point to the real you."

We threw away our cups, and I led Kurt outside, where people were milling about, going through their lives. Or maybe they were just going through the motions.

"Look around," I said, keeping my voice low to avoid anyone overhearing. "What does everyone here have in common?"

"They're all normal," Kurt said wistfully.

"True," I said. "As far as we can tell. But you know what I think?" I tilted my head upward to him. "I bet nine out of ten aren't happy with who they are. A lot like you." I linked arms with him. "Kurt, they're never gonna accept you they way you want them to unless you can fully accept yourself." As we passed by an alley, I changed direction to walk down it. "Come on."

"This looks like the alley we were in the other night," Kurt said.

I shrugged. "It does, doesn't it? Maybe it is." I turned to him and looked pointedly at his belt, where his image inducer was clipped.

Reluctantly, he pressed the button and the hologram faded, leaving behind velvet-soft royal blue skin, shining golden eyes, elf-like ears, two-fingered hands, that devilish tail and two-toed, faunlike feet. The moonlight shone off his midnight-colored hair and illuminated his face and shoulders, contouring him in such a way that he looked to be part of the night itself. _God, he's so lovely,_ I thought on impulse.

I couldn't help but stare up at him in awe. "Perfection," I whispered, taking his hand once again. "Don't you realize? You're beautiful—everything you are." I held up our hands for him to see, revealing the stark contrast of our skin tones. It was actually a nice mixture. "Well, whaddya know? Blue looks great on red," I quipped. Suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of emotion, I hugged him tight around his middle. "If only we lived in a perfect world," I said. "Then nobody would care about this. You would be free. _We _would be free."

"Instead we live in a world where people constantly debate over the 'mutant problem,'" Kurt said.

"'Mutant problem'…'Indian problem'…" I shook my head. "It's all the same. There's really no problem at all."

His arms wound around me. "Thank you for this," he said.

"For what?"

"Helping me see," he explained. "I only thought I was unhappy with myself because no one else looked this way, and I could never truly experience all the things I should. No, I don't dislike myself. I dislike my circumstances."

"That's all it ever is, right?" I asked. "Circumstances."

"_Ja,_" he said. "That is why we must make do for now, and work to make things different."

I moved somewhat so that I could see him. "Doesn't mean we can't wish for better."

"You seem very intent on boosting my confidence," he observed. "Why is that?"

"Well, the other night you helped me feel better about myself when you told me what you think of me. Just figured I'd return the favor."

He smirked. "Speaking of, we never picked up where we left off, did we?"

We both almost threw ourselves into the kiss. I hungered for him deep in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't kissed him in over a week, and he was just _so good_…He pulled me close to him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. I wasn't used to this kind of initiative, but I certainly liked it.

Somewhere overhead thunder rumbled. Neither of us paid much mind to it.

I locked my fingers in his hair. A low grunt came from his throat. _What a nice sound, _I thought. It occurred to me that he was not holding himself back as usual, which would have worried me if I weren't so caught up in what he was doing to me.

He held me firmly, but that underlying gentleness was still there. I felt him stroke my spine. I shivered, and he pulled back for a moment. I was briefly concerned. Had I done something wrong? Was his heart acting up again? My alarm was unfounded, though, as he transferred his attentions to my neck. His lips were ridiculously soft on the sensitive skin there. _How is he so good at this? _My heart raced. I heard a sigh of contentment and was vaguely aware that it was me.

His lips found mine once again. This time his kisses were less ravenous and more…intimate, I supposed? Whatever they were, I enjoyed them. While he kissed me, his hand found the exposed small of my back where my shirt had ridden up. When he began making slow, sensual circles on my bare skin, I shuddered in delight and pressed myself even nearer to him, if such a thing were possible. My thoughts ran wild. _Don't stop, don't stop touching me. Don't ever stop. Oh, Kurt, I love you, I love you like crazy…_He was driving me nuts. And he could probably feel every little sensation he gave me, too.

At that instant, his tongue gingerly traced the outline of my lips, bringing me back to the kiss. I was a bit stunned that he was the one to start that, especially since the last time we'd tried it his heart rate had increased nearly to the point of dangerousness. But if he was willing it give it a go, so was I. I returned the action, and there was that amazing taste again. His lips parted; mine followed suit.

I loved every single second of this, and I was pretty sure he knew that.

That blasted thunder crashed again. I would have gladly ignored it, but just as soon as it sounded, a torrential rain poured over us. We broke apart, and our eyes met. The hilarity of the situation found us both, and we burst into belly-shaking guffaws.

I hugged Kurt once more. "Oh, I love you so much," I said.

"And just what do you love about me?" He smiled when he asked the question.

A nervous giggle bubbled up and escaped me. I'd never told him the reasons I loved him before. "Hmm…You're a wonderful person, for starters. You're smart and sweet and the nicest guy I've ever met and kind of a dork but that's okay because I think it's adorable and I'm rambling. Sorry."

Kurt laughed. "I love you, too, Elyon. And I think I have already told you why."

My blush made its way back to my face. I ignored it. "Well, we should probably call home. We're already soaked to the bone. We don't wanna get sick."

"I thought this didn't affect you?" He was puzzled.

"I'm immune to air temperature," I said. "Water temperature is probably a completely different story."

A mischievous grin darted across his features. "You're keeping _me _warm."

What a cornball! A silly beam overtook my own face. "Aww." I snuggled closer to him.

He held me close, and it wasn't long before he captured my lips with his again. I melted into the kiss, but I quickly became conscious of something I had to do first. I pulled away from him.

"Hold on," I said. I pulled my cell phone out of my shoulder bag, pulled up Scott in my contacts list, texted him our location, and put the phone back in my bag. I looked up at Kurt expectantly. "Continue."

He resumed our kiss. Things had changed between us, to be sure, but we had healed. I was relieved.

* * *

><p><em>Ugh, kids are so loud. <em>I drummed my fingers on my desk and waited for the students to calm themselves. As it turned out, I had caught quite a chill last night in the rain. I couldn't say that I was surprised; my immune system was kind of terrible when it came to European diseases. As such, all the noise was beginning to give me a migraine.

"Okay, everyone, quiet down," I said. Jesus. Even I could barely hear my voice. Understandably, no one followed the instruction.

Noriko, who, in her eternal helpfulness, had decided to sit near me today, turned to her classmates. "She said to be quiet!" They immediately grew silent.

I sniffled. "Thanks." I addressed the students. "Anyways, in case you couldn't tell, I'm not feeling so good today. So just work on your projects and keep the volume down as much as you can. And try not to make my headache any worse."

Once everyone had mingled, Laura approached me.

"Miss Ryder?" Her voice was hushed. I found it sort of odd hearing her call me "Miss Ryder." Over the summer she'd simply called me by my first name.

I looked up at her. "Yeah, Laura?"

"I found this assignment difficult," she said matter-of-factly.

I wondered what was giving her trouble. "Pull up a chair and sit down," I said. She obeyed my instruction. "Now, what about this is hard for you?"

Laura didn't hesitate to answer. "I have no true family, and I come from a facility."

I didn't know how to respond to that. "…Oh," I said after a moment. "I see the problem. Well, you don't have to talk about your past if you don't want to."

I could hear Santo and Julian talking beyond me and Laura. Santo said something about "the clone." I would have called him down, but Julian beat me to it, angrily retorting, "Her name is Laura." Apparently, Laura heard this, too, and she blushed slightly. I wondered if she was aware of it.

I continued, "And as for family…well, we're your family now, Laura."

Cessily came up to my desk. "Having trouble?" she asked. I nodded. "Well," she went on, "I don't exactly have a great home life, either. Maybe we can help each other."

I smiled at the two of them. Cessily had been trying to get Laura to open up ever since they'd met. This would be a great opportunity to achieve that. "I think that's a great idea," I said.

After class, I remained at my desk and rubbed my forehead with my fingertips, trying to alleviate the pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kurt enter with a book. He, too, had gotten a bit sick last night, but he was far better off than me, only having swollen tonsils.

"Hey," I said.

"Hello," he replied, making his way to the front of my desk.

"Whatcha need?" I asked.

"I wanted to keep you company. Also, what is this word?" He showed me the page and pointed out the word.

The corner of my mouth tugged upward. "'Turgid?' It means swollen, or bloated, or overdramatic. You know, like a Lifetime movie." I giggled, unable to help myself.

He furrowed his brow. "Are you laughing at me?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "I think you're cute, that's all."

A faint violet blush manifested on his cheeks, but it went away just as quickly as it appeared. "So," he said, "I was wondering…what is your favorite stone?" He seated himself in the chair just in front of me.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity."

I still felt suspicion, but it would only be polite to give him an answer. "Hmm…turquoise is a healing stone—I like it a lot. And tiger eye. It's supposed to give strength and courage."

He looked thoughtful. _What is he planning? _I wondered. "Oh," he said, as if his interest had been sated. He leaned in to kiss me.

I covered my face with a piece of paper. "Don't kiss me, I'm sick!"

"So am I," he said.

"But I'm sicker than you," I countered.

He sighed. "Fine, then. At least dance with me." He stood, walked to my side of the desk, and held out his hand.

I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly, so that he'd know my reluctance was insincere. "Oh, okay." I took his hand.

Kurt helped me up. He held me as we twirled around the room, avoiding any complicated moves. Suddenly, the blood drained from my head, and I swooned.

"Oh!" I was too surprised to come up with anything else.

"Elyon!" Kurt caught me before I fell. "Perhaps you should lie down." He put an arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah." I nodded. "That sounds nice."

He put together a few chairs and helped me over to them. I lay down on them.

Kurt's face was filled with concern. "You look a little green." He touched his hand to my forehead, presumably to wipe away the cold sweat that had dewed up there. "You're warm," he said, sounding surprised.

"I'm always warm," I said.

"I mean warmer than you are normally," he clarified. "Have you felt this ill all day?"

I thought for a moment. "Not really. I've been a bit peaked, but I was mostly fine."

"Perhaps Hank should take a look at you." He smoothed my hair, brushing it out of my face. "I'll pray for you."

"Thanks, honey." I smiled at the sentiment, but at the same time, his sweetness was infuriatingly irresistible, especially with that stupidly attractive mouth of his. I frowned. "You know, you can be very frustrating sometimes."

In response, Kurt kissed my forehead. Over his shoulder, I saw Xorn enter the room.

Xorn's face contorted in apparent embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry—am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Kurt said. "You're fine, Kuan-Yin."

Xorn stepped a little closer. "What is wrong with her?"

"She's sick," Kurt explained.

Xorn looked elated. "I can help!" he said.

Kurt's expression was not skeptical, but honestly inquisitive. "Can you?"

"Yes." Xorn backed out of the room. "Just give me one moment!"

Kurt watched Xorn leave before turning to me. "Do you trust him to help you?"

Come to think of it, I didn't exactly have a lot of options here. I looked Kurt in the eyes. "What choice do I have, babe?" Kurt blinked a few times at my words. "What?" I demanded, although my voice was too weak for it to truly sound like an order.

"Nothing." He shook his head in incredulity. "It's just…you're beginning to trust people. I'm proud of you."

Before I could even respond emotionally to Kurt's statement, Xorn reentered the room, a skull-patterned helmet tucked under his arm.

He put the helmet on and crossed the room to stand beside me. He looked at Kurt. "Stand back, please." Kurt stood and did as Xorn had told him.

"What're you gonna do?" I asked.

"Don't worry," Xorn said. "Just relax." His tone was quite reassuring. He touched his forehead to mine, and I saw blue light glow out of the eyes. When he pulled away, he was still glowing. "Better?"

Kurt moved to crouch beside me as soon as Xorn vacated the space.

I sat up and performed a quick internal self-examination. My aches, chills, and weakness were gone, almost like they had never afflicted me. "Yeah," I said, my voice now only a tad scratchy. "Loads." I cocked my head at him, puzzled by the fact that the glow had not gone away. "Um, are you supposed to still be glowing?"

Xorn nodded. "Yes," he said. "It is like a star—that is my mutation. It will not burn out for a while, so I must wear this helmet for the next month or so, lest I accidentally harm someone."

Well, that was more than a bit troubling. Regardless, I turned to fully face him. "Thank you, Xorn."

His body language told me that my thanks made him a little bashful, as he hunched his shoulders and fidgeted his feet. Then he awkwardly made his way out of the room.

I looked at the door for a moment and got a brilliant idea of how to fix my frustration. I pushed the door shut with telekinesis and glanced at Kurt. With no further warning than that, I tackled him to the floor and kissed him.

He pulled away from me after a couple of seconds. "Elyon, someone might come in…" His words were cautious, but his eyes bored into mine longingly.

"I locked the door," I told him.

He smirked. "Well, all right, then." He wrapped his arms around me and rolled over so that we lay on the floor on our sides, facing each other. He brought his lips back to mine in a kiss that was sweet and slow. I prayed no one would end up needing us, since I didn't know what I would do if I had to let him go now.

My little prayer turned out to be futile, as there was a timid knock on the door only a few seconds later.

Kurt and I broke apart, exchanged glances, and stood, straightening ourselves out so that whoever it was would have no inkling of what we were just doing.

I unlocked the door with my mind. "Come on in," I beckoned.

The door opened to reveal Clarice. "Miss Ryder?" she said. "There's a girl here who says she has to talk to you and Mr. Wagner."

_Of course she does. _"Where is she?" I asked.

"She's at the front door." Clarice motioned for us to follow her. Without another word, we left the room and followed her to the entryway, where the door stood ajar. I peered around the corner and found someone I'd never expected to see again.

The mutant girl from a few nights ago, Bonnie, looked relieved when she saw us. "I'm so glad you're here!" she cried. Upon studying her further, I noticed that she was an absolute mess—her toffee-colored ringlets were mussed all around her face, her clothes were torn in places, and her beret was conspicuously missing from her head.

"What—," I began, but she cut me off with a desperate plea.

"You've gotta help me," she begged. "They took him—they took Clyde!" With that, she threw her arms around me and collapsed in quivering sobs.

I looked up at Kurt, and his face told me exactly what he thought. We had no choice but to help this girl, whether we liked it or not.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_Sorry this is kinda short. I'm aware it's not the best. I had a bit of trouble figuring out where to introduce this plot point, and I decided this would be the best place.

I'm also sorry this took so long. I've been very busy with school, and I experienced a crash with my old jump drive, so I lost a lot of material.

As you can probably tell, this is more or less a character development chapter, even though it is rather filler. I hope you like it nonetheless.

Don't forget to leave a review!


	11. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Hey, everybody.

I know this whole "author's note as a chapter" thing isn't really my style, but I have to make myself clear so that nobody gives up on this.

There aren't a whole lot of reviews for this story. You guys know that, and I know that. It's a simple fact. I'm not blaming any viewers for not leaving reviews, but I will admit that it doesn't exactly help in the motivation department. Along with that, I've been _very _busy with school and my personal life and, as such, simply have not had time to write. "But you started this three years ago!" you might think. I know that, too. And trust me, the story is almost finished. I just have to write it down.

So here's the deal. I'm gonna take some real time off. During that time, I'll be planning down exact plot points for every chapter, just like I used to. And I'll actually be writing it down. My goal is to have it completed before the end of the year. I know, I know; it's a broad time frame, but it's the one during which I can most easily work.

Have patience. All good things come with time.

Until then, loves!

- Jinx


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